First to the Finish
by Nytd
Summary: With Will Turner being handsome and honorable, and Jack Sparrow possessing rakish good looks and sly charm, what does an old rogue like Barbossa have on his side that might land Elizabeth Swann in his arms? Why, the Pirate Code, of course.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Thanks to Intrepid Bandicoot, also an intrepid Barbossa wench, for reading things through to tell me if the story seemed to work, and very special thanks to FreedomOftheSeas, as ususal, for all her beta reading efforts. Thankee muchly, darlin'!

* * *

It's clear in AWE that Elizabeth and Barbossa now have a greater level of trust than was probably present at the end of DMC, but why? There was a very long period of time that we never see from the night in Tia Dalma's shack when Barbossa returns, to when they arrive in Singapore, and a lot of things could have happened along the way...

--

**First to the Finish**

**Chapter One ~*~**

**--**

_I do swear from my heart and declare in my conscience before God and the sea that I shall bear faith and true allegiance to this company and the articles I have signed_.

-Elizabeth Swann, one night before sailing for World's End

**--**

Barbossa had never been a patient man in his youth, wanting what he wanted and wanting it now, taking it when he felt like it and when he could. But all that had changed. Spending ten years searching for cursed Aztec gold and returning it one excruciating coin at a time to the Chest of Cortez had seen to that.

Not that he wasn't inclined to have what he desired, and to snatch it if the urge came upon him, but the benefits of biding his time just a little in certain situations had become painfully clear in that cursed decade.

He mulled over that sentiment as he stood at the rail of the fluyt, absently watching the moonlight play off the ship's wake and illuminate his hands as they rested on the rail. Odd that he was still becoming accustomed to them no longer transforming before his eyes –especially when he'd thought for ten years that he'd never get used to seeing his flesh melt away.

_Groene Draeck_ the ship he stood upon was called, and her captain, Pieter Florisz, was a Dutchman who professed that he was trading spices for the VOC, but Barbossa knew what else was in his holds; Florisz might be carrying goods for the Dutch East India Company, but the opium he planned to sell in Singapore was for his own benefit.

And while bartering passage aboard a smuggler's vessel had not sat well with the young blacksmith, eventually Turner had deferred to Barbossa's judgment in the matter and had reluctantly agreed that their small company shouldn't pass on the opportunity. An accord between Barbossa and Florisz had been reached, the terms being that the Dutch smuggler would see that their crew would arrive at Singapore well-fed and unharmed; in return their small company would pull their weight aboard the _Draeck, _and not interfere with the captain's business, either official or unofficial.

The fact that the labor of Barbossa's crew was accompanied by a purse of gold doubloons, and that Florisz discovered Barbossa to be an experienced navigator who spoke a smattering of Cantonese and fluent Portuguese didn't hurt their arrangement at all either. It was often that Dutch and Portuguese ships clashed in the Orient, and having someone to translate potential negotiations and avoid bloodshed between the two rival countries made Barbossa's presence and that of his crew slightly more welcome aboard the _Draeck_.

True, Florisz had quietly hinted, in very broken English, that he'd also be interested in the woman who traveled in their company, but whether it was for his own personal pleasure, the opportunity to sell her or barter her away later, or both, Barbossa didn't know. He'd merely smiled wryly at the Dutch captain, his hand upon his sword hilt the whole time, letting him know that an arrangement involving Miss Swann was out of the question. Florisz had glanced at the woman waiting with the others across the dock one more time, looking thoughtful, and then had finally shrugged and shaken Barbossa's hand.

Barbossa glanced down again at the ship's wake and sighed heavily. His hard-won patience he needed now, for while the _Groene Draeck_ was a sturdy and sea-worthy craft, capable of efficiently carrying an impressive amount of cargo, contraband, and a large Dutch and Chinese crew, she was as slow as a lame cow, lumbering along at a pace that made him long even more to have the _Black Pearl_ back under his hands.

Movement at the corner of his vision caught Barbossa's attention, and when he turned to see what was responsible, he could tell, despite the ragged attire she wore, that it was the woman he had just been thinking about who was now leaning on her elbows on the same rail as he, much further aft. He'd noted that while she worked as hard as any of the men aboard the ship, never complaining despite the aches, and bruises, and sores on those fragile governor's daughter's hands of hers, it was often that she could be found at that spot, staring blankly at the waves, be it midday or midnight.

He knew what plagued her –it was serious business to kill in cold blood, to knowingly send a man to his death with malice of forethought, and he knew it was going to take more time than it had on the first legs of their voyage for her to come to terms with it. Perhaps she would never completely get over it, although the journey she was willing to make now was obviously her attempt at assuaging her profound guilt.

Barbossa ignored her and returned to his own thoughts. He'd left her be for the most part this far, knowing that any attempt at prolonged interaction just resulted in her walking away with tears in her eyes, or at the most, sullen one word replies to questions asked of her.

More movement caught his attention, and when he looked her way he saw that another figure was approaching Elizabeth where she leaned on the rail. Barbossa rolled his eyes; there again, was the Turner whelp, who clearly didn't understand that the time had not yet come to try to bridge the gap between the two young lovers. That timeframe was easily going to be measured in months and not days or weeks as Turner appeared to hope.

Some sort of hushed and abbreviated exchange took place between them, and Barbossa made an attempt to ignore it, for it was not the first of such exchanges, nor would it be the last, he surmised. While Turner had the dogged persistence of a terrier, he needed to learn just when to utilize that determination and when to keep his mouth shut.

Barbossa grinned as he stood at his vigil. Another twenty years of dealing with women would teach the lad when to keep his mouth shut, that much was for certain.

"But, Elizabeth," he heard Turner say softly, reinforcing his thoughts.

"I'd prefer some time alone," she answered with quiet annoyance, and when Turner stood there still, undecided whether to grant her request or not, she simply walked away from him, coming forward to stand at the rail only a few feet away.

Barbossa, after watching Will sigh with frustration that was apparent even across the gloomy deck of the _Draeck_ and then head below decks, glanced at the woman standing a few paces away, wondering if she realized he was there in the shadows or not. He decided to speak up, not wanting to risk her drawing a blade against him if he startled her.

"Evenin', Miss Turner," he said quietly. His cordial manner did nothing to dispel the look of instant venom she shot him, and he immediately realized that it wasn't so much that he'd startled her, but that it was because of the unintended faux pas he'd made in addressing her. Probably not the best moment to have made it, either, by the look she shot him.

"Apologies," he said graciously, holding one hand up in a gesture of surrender even before she could attack him verbally. "'Twas but a mistake on my part – still gettin' used to yer real name, Miss Swann. No insult was intended."

"Insult?" she asked, her eyes still hard. "And just why, Captain Barbossa, would I find that an insult?"

He shrugged. "I thought ye might well find it as such, after how displeased y'are with young Master Turner."

She opened her mouth to speak, and then apparently swallowed the sharp retort she had ready, deciding that either she didn't have the energy to instigate an argument with someone else or that he was actually right in his assumptions.

"I just prefer my own name, is all," she said with dissipating annoyance, leaning on her elbows once again.

"I see," he replied, observing her closely. "Nothin' wrong with a woman who knows her own mind, I suppose."

"I'm glad you see it that way," she replied smartly, not sparing him a glance.

He chuckled to himself softly, unheard by the girl, amused by her sharp retort and in the mood to goad her just a little. "Nothin' wrong with a woman who knows her place, either," he said casually, purposefully looking out over the waves and not at her.

She turned to stare icily at him. "And just where would that be?"

"Well, that'd be fer the woman do decide," Barbossa replied, facing her and leaning casually on one elbow as he gave her his most innocent smile, which apparently projected little innocence, for she still gazed at him sternly, unsure whether she should feel insulted or not.

"Are you patronizing me or is that what you really think, Captain?" she asked haughtily.

"Oh, aye, 'tis fer each woman to decide fer herself where she belongs," he replied affably, "but that doesn't mean that I don't have me own preferences in the matter."

Clearly she missed the sly undertones in his words.

"And just what would those be?" Her tone carried the slightest defensive lilt to it.

The smirk that spread across his lips was not an innocent one by any means, and he met her defiant look with an unwavering blue stare.

"I fear ye'd think less of me if I were to say, Miss _Swann_," he said, his words challenging her to try to refute the fact that she probably already thought very little of him, and mocking her with the fact that she knew her opinion was of small worth to him.

Before she could decide which way she should respond to his comment, he headed her off and put an end to the conversation, pleased that he left her off-balance. Maybe her irritation with him would take her mind off the Kraken incident for more than a blasted minute.

"Well, I'll bid ye goodnight, Miss Swann. Ye'll want to retire straightaway, I'll wager," he finished, giving one meaningful glance at a few of Florisz's crew who were on deck, making it clear that she ought not remain alone with them and should keep within the company of the rest of their group.

He walked away, leaving her to her thoughts, her irritation, and her guilt.

**~*~**

**--**

**A/N:** The _Groene Draeck_ was actually a Dutch ship of old, and means Green Dragon.

The VOC is the _Vereenigde Oost-Indische Compagnie_, or Dutch East India Company.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two ~*~**

**--**

Dawn brought with it a clearing of the heavy cloud cover they'd been sailing under for the past three days, and as Barbossa came on deck, situating his broad hat in place to shield his eyes from the bright morning sun, he was greeted by the sound of steel clashing against steel. To his surprise, he found Turner sparring with Elizabeth, having determined that he would change his tactics in trying to interact with her, and that she needed to improve her skills with a blade before they made port in Singapore.

Barbossa, mildly curious, folded his arms across his chest and leaned one shoulder up against the mizzenmast, observing the pair from a short distance away. Crude, the woman's technique was, and although her determination appeared fierce, it only took him a moment to recognize that with the way she was holding her own against the blacksmith, that the boy was going easy on her. He'd seen what Turner was capable of a few times in their journey so far, and he knew there was no way that the girl had honed her skills to that degree; that much was obvious by the way she still moved a beat too slowly.

"Move quicker!" he said, unable to help the comment from escaping his lips.

Both combatants paused, lowering their weapons and panting a little as they each shot him a similar dirty look.

"Miss Swann, ye'll need to be movin' that sweet arse of yers out of the way faster. As much as young Turner might fancy it, I reckon a real opponent would be too intent on killin' yeh to recognize how fine it is," he said wryly, savoring her blush and the look of intense irritation from the younger man.

"I don't recall asking for your advice, Captain Barbossa," she snapped quickly, trying to hide her discomfiture.

"I'll offer my advice freely, when I choose and ye'll take it, if yer to remain part of me crew, Miss Swann," he said back with just enough bite to drive his point home. "Now, again, and move quicker –stay lighter on yer feet."

After one last irritated glance apiece, the two resumed their duel, and Barbossa watched them both, scrutinizing the technique of each. Turner's was flawless; he moved with the grace of a dancer and anticipated her every move as if the duel had been scripted. Again Elizabeth parried every blow effectively, but he knew it would have been a simple matter for Will to disarm her.

"Get in closer!" he snarled, watching her as she kept Will at more than arm's length and left herself too open. He then spoke sharply to Will. "Have her tighten up her distance!"

Both combatants desisted again, and it was Will's turn to be irritated.

"Would you care to conduct this lesson yourself, Barbossa?" he asked, staring hard at the older pirate.

"If yeh like," Barbossa replied simply, and then he grinned wolfishly. "I'll wager there be a thing or three I could teach 'er that ye haven't."

Elizabeth might have missed the darker meaning, but although it took him a second, Will didn't, and he frowned at Barbossa heavily.

"Besides," Barbossa continued snidely, before Will could speak, "yer goin' much too easy on her."

"I am not," Will said with unconvincing indignation.

"Y'are so," Barbossa said back evenly. "Yer right skilled with a blade, Master Turner, I'll give ye that...take after yer father that way. But somethin' tells me you could eat Miss Swann up if ye chose. Figuratively speakin', of course."

Will, outraged by Barbossa's second implied impropriety, opened his mouth to retort angrily, but never got the chance.

"You're not really going easy on me, are you, Will?" Elizabeth asked, giving him a piercing stare.

Will was caught unprepared for her level of annoyance. "I...I just wanted you to feel like you were doing well," he said back quietly.

"Will!" she exclaimed. "I do not want you to treat me any differently than you would anyone else! Just because I'm a woman!"

It was obvious that Will was getting angrier as he spoke. "I'd go easier on anyone who was still learning. It has nothing to do with the fact that you're a woman!"

"Oh, but I think it does," Barbossa chimed in, stirring the pot and chuckling a little.

Will glared at the amused older pirate and then at the irate woman, and finally decided he'd had enough. Things were already tense enough between him and Elizabeth without more nonsense like this.

"Fine," he said, re-sheathing his sword with a '_snick_' and snarling softly at Barbossa. "You do it." With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared below decks.

Elizabeth stared after where Will had gone for a long moment, and then turned to look at Barbossa, unsure what to say for the moment.

"'Tis up to you," Barbossa said matter-of-factly, indicating that he was amenable to taking up her lesson if she was willing.

She seemed to be dealing with an inner struggle to rise to the challenge of facing him or running after Will. At last she appeared to make up her mind.

"Fine," she said determinedly, facing him with sword in hand. "As long as you promise not to go easy on me."

"Ah, so ye'd prefer things be _hard_, Miss Swann?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his eye as he waited for his inappropriate implication to hit home. He was rewarded with a rise of color in her cheeks and then a look of haughty indignation. He wasn't surprised that he found each fetching on her; he'd found them so before, when she'd been his guest aboard the _Pearl_. Of course, then he couldn't do anything more than just look, but now...

An enticing thought crept into the dark corners of his mind, and he found himself wondering if such a thing might be possible. Especially at the moment with her at odds with Turner, it might be amusing to find out.

But this was not a thing that could be rushed; this was a thing that was going to require all that hard-earned patience he'd acquired over ten years, and The Powers knew that they had time on their hands with the remaining weeks it would take them to make port in Singapore. Why not?

"Alright, then," he said, both to her and himself. "I'll see what I can teach you."

He stepped closer to her, meeting her defiant stare with his own unblinking one. "If I'm to teach you anythin', ye'll have to do exactly as I say and do it right sharply; is that clear, Missy?"

"It is," she said back quietly between clenched teeth.

"Good. Give me your sword," he ordered her, holding out his hand expectantly.

Clearly confused as to why he would ask such a thing, she hesitated.

"Sharply, Miss Swann," he ordered again. "I'll not be made to speak twice."

"Fine," she said with her typical hauteur, and she turned her sword around and handed it to him pommel first. She regretted it the moment the blade had cleared her grasp, as he moved with the speed and accuracy of a viper, and rapped her sharply across the back of her hand with the flat of the blade.

Gasping in pain and fury, she clutched her hand to her chest, the palm of the other pressed over the back of her already bruising hand and glaring at Barbossa as best she might while wincing in pain. She gasped once or twice, trying to master the pain and to fight back the tears of anger and embarrassment.

Barbossa offered her back her sword. "Take it," he ordered her, and she took it back with her left hand, meeting him with a look of seething hatred.

"Now," he said, taking a step closer and looking down at her, "two things ye've learned this first lesson. One, _do not_ lose yer weapon. A fight becomes a murder in short order if ye do. I learned that the same way me own first lesson, Miss Swann, and I wager it'll have a lastin' impression on you, same as me.

"Second, now ye know I'll not being goin' easy on yeh. We meet daily; no exceptions or I'm done wastin' time on ye. That clear?"

"Aye," she snarled quietly, cradling her injured hand under her armpit.

"Good. You follow orders and put the time in with me, and by the point we reach Singapore, I wager I'll have learned ye aught that Master Turner yet hasn't."

With that he met her gaze steadily for another beat or two, and then turned and strode away.

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three ~*~**

**--**

It was during a lesson a week later that Barbossa realized she was finally making progress, and perhaps so was he. Her response to his instruction had been slow so far –she was too used to Will's style and technique, and quite frankly wasn't prepared for the fact that Barbossa was teaching her how to _fight _and not just to duel.

But during this lesson it was apparent that she had been listening to him, and now that she'd gotten a week of bruises and cuts and a broken finger out of the way, she'd screwed up her substantial courage and was minimizing the distance between them, keeping him at bay with her sword and not her arm.

"Better," he said with an approving nod, parrying her next thrust. "Already better than a week ago." He knew his comment would please her and irritate Turner, who stood not far across the deck, watching the lesson despite the fact that he tried to appear disinterested.

"I'm a fast learner," she said, perhaps just a little cocky after being buoyed by his reserved praise and keeping him in closer proximity than she had let herself before.

"Ah, and so y'are, Miss Swann," he said in reply. "With the progress ye've made so far, if I didn't know better, I'd swear yeh jus' like gettin' close to me."

He could tell from the corner of his eye that his comment had earned him a dirty look from Will, and it amused him even more than the brief look of irritation from her.

"Hardly, Captain Barbossa," she said, but it was with a hint of good-natured indignation this time, and not the fierce resentment and anger she'd been harboring because of their first lesson.

The deck was filled with the clang of their blades as they dueled on for a few more moments, here and there a word of correction or instruction from him. A minute later she stepped in closer than ever, surprising him a little. She still posed little threat, even with her newfound skill, and it took minimal effort for him to fend off her attack and sidestep her, throwing her slightly off balance.

She stumbled past him, trying to catch herself ungracefully, but finally managing to stop her momentum. She whirled on him as she realized how simple it had been for him to show her up, and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"You've been going easy on me, haven't you?" she asked accusingly.

Barbossa let out an amused chortle and sheathed his blade for the moment. "Miss Swann, if I hadn't been goin' easy on you this far, Master Turner would still be findin' pieces of you all across this deck." When he saw the anger starting to build in her gaze, he held up one hand to fend off whatever incensed comment she was about to make.

"A long time I've handled a blade, Missy. Aye, it takes hard work to gain a fair amount of skill, but it also takes time. There'd be no sense in just beatin' yeh into the ground at the start, now would there?"

"I suppose not," she said, reluctantly agreeing with him.

"Yer makin' improvement, but ye can't expect to wield a sword with the same skill as meself overnight. 'Twill come in time, lass," he said. It only took him a second to realize that the cold stare his words had earned him from Turner across the deck had been because of the way he'd spoken almost affectionately to the girl. That, and perhaps because of the tiniest smile she'd graced him with after his comment.

Feeling a bit self-satisfied at getting a reaction from the younger man, Barbossa opted to provoke him further for his own amusement and also to see what she would do.

"We'll meet here again tomorrow; ye've done enough fer this mornin'." He held up a hand again to ward off her protest at ending the lesson. "Besides, it be my experience that 'tis best not to rush things with a woman –especially not with a lady as fine as yerself, Miss Swann."

If Elizabeth missed the message contained in his words, Will saw it in the way Barbossa looked her over as she turned away, a little mystified at what she naively perceived to be only the complement it was on the surface. Will waited until Elizabeth was out of earshot, and then strode purposefully up to confront the older pirate.

"Experience with fine ladies, huh?" he snorted. "Like you've even spent time in the company of any finer than a poxy Tortuga whore."

Barbossa, rather than reacting defensively to Will's words as the younger man expected, merely looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. "More than ye'd suppose, Master Turner," he said pleasantly, but unable to hide all of the smirk that was crossing his lips, "but then again, less than I'd like."

"You stay away from her, Barbossa," Will growled, inferring from the way the old rogue cast a last glance at Elizabeth that he meant her. His hand went reflexively to his sword and he took a threatening step closer.

"Or what?" Barbossa asked, holding his ground and folding his arms across his chest. "Ye'll kill me? And how exactly would it be that ye'd get to World's End then?"

Will struggled with what to say, furious at Barbossa's comments on the situation.

"And keep in mind, Master Turner," Barbossa continued, letting his hands drop to rest casually together on the pommel of his sword, "while yeh might be debatin' whether or not you really need me to fetch back Jack Sparrow, I'll tell you this moment that yeh _do_, and that I'll also not take kindly to ye tryin' to kill me _again_."

Will realized that Barbossa was right on both counts, and the he wouldn't have the slightest idea where to go or what to do with the charts from Singapore without the pirate captain. He also knew that the skill with which the old rogue wielded a blade would make any attempt to eliminate him by direct confrontation a daunting task.

Will hissed a last frustrated warning at him. "You just stay away from Elizabeth."

"Just when I'd be startin' to make some progress with her?" Barbossa asked, knowing that Will would pick up on the fact that he implied more than just with her lessons. "I think not." He knew the comment would rile the younger man's gallant if not misguided sense of chivalry –he needed to stop thinking of the girl as a damsel in distress who needed to be rescued and worry more about how to give her the means to protect herself.

Infuriated beyond words, Will gave Barbossa one last poisonous glare and brushed past him roughly, disappearing into the holds.

--

Dinner that evening proved to be interesting. Florisz, wanting to hear more about trade and piracy in the Caribbean, had invited Barbossa to dine with him, and the Lord of the Caspian Sea, who had not bothered to tell the Dutch smuggler precisely who he was, since he suspected Florisz would be much too interested in the bounty of ten thousand guineas on his head, had graciously accepted his invitation.

Four places were set, and Barbossa sat at the one directly opposite Florisz, accepting the goblet of wine offered to him. Barbossa knew that Florisz really wanted to ask about the reason his small band of crewmembers was on its way to Singapore, but Barbossa had deftly weaved the condition that no questions were to be asked about their voyage into the accord he'd reached with the Dutchman. A few moments into their attempted conversation about the EITC, the cabin door opened and Elizabeth entered, escorted by Florisz's first mate, Roemer.

Barbossa made a concerted effort to keep from rolling his eyes when he saw her; clearly the _Draeck's_ captain had not lost interest in the attractive young woman. Not that Barbossa could blame him, really; even in those boys' clothes she was quite fetching. Although not as fetching as she'd been in that dress she'd worn for him aboard the _Black Pearl_. Barbossa had to snap himself out a brief, lustful musing about the low neckline of that claret colored dress when Florisz stood up to welcome her.

Elizabeth, Barbossa noted as he watched her, had already taken in the way the table was set, and when invited to sit down by Florisz, took a step toward Barbossa's side of the table. Clearly, in her mind, she had pronounced him the lesser of two evils, but the ship's captain had other ideas and pulled out the chair next to him for her. Amused that the girl was going to be stuck sitting in very close proximity to a man she clearly found distasteful, Barbossa hid his smirk in his goblet as he had another sip of wine.

"Oh, thank you so much, Captain Florisz," she said, looking to Roemer to translate, "but if it wouldn't be an imposition, I'd prefer to be seated next to Captain Barbossa. I'm afraid after the vigorous nature of today's lesson, I am quite unable to easily turn my neck, and I'd be much better able to converse with you if I can look at you directly." The gracious way she begged off sitting next to Florisz was accompanied by a charming smile that left even Barbossa wondering if it was genuine, and he had to admit he was impressed as Florisz returned the smile and indicated she should be seated across from him.

Florisz spoke in Dutch to Roemer for a minute, and Barbossa took the opportunity to pour a glass of wine for the woman slipping into the chair next to him.

"_Liar_," he said under his breath, just loud enough for her to catch it. "Try the wine," he added cordially, sliding the glass toward her, and he knew by the way her smile faltered just a little, that her thoughts had instantly flown to the last time he'd offered her some.

Florisz sat down with Roemer taking the seat next to him, precluding Elizabeth from saying anything. Apparently the first mate spoke better English than his captain and had been invited to the table to smooth out the conversation. Each of the four at the table reached for their wineglasses, and Barbossa raised his in an obvious gesture of toasting.

"Ao vestido vermehlo," Barbossa said, taking a sip of wine as the three others at the table joined him in the toast.

Elizabeth put down her wineglass and turned to address him, adopting the same charming smile she probably used in conversation at her father's dinner parties. "I don't believe that anyone else at this table speaks Portuguese, Captain Barbossa," she scolded him gently. "Won't you share with us the translation of your toast?"

"Aye, that be simple enough, Miss Swann," he said smoothly in return, "it simply means '_to the red dress_.'"

He didn't bother to hide the subtle smirk he wore at the way her smile completely faded.

~*~

**A/N:** As always, if I butcher anything in Portuguese or Dutch in this story, let me know so that I can set it right! :D


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the review, Ashley! :)

--

**Chapter Four ~*~**

--

"You," Elizabeth spat quietly, the moment they exited Florisz's cabin together, "are a complete scoundrel!" She punctuated her admonishment by smacking him lightly across the arm.

"'Twould fall in the territory of bein' a pirate," he replied flippantly as they crossed the deck.

"I cannot believe the story you concocted to explain that toast," she continued, hands on her hips as she confronted him. "And you called _me_ a liar."

"Miss Swann, ye'll find that I very rarely lie," he replied, leaning casually on the rail nearby.

"Oh, don't give me that – your half-truths and omissions twist things enough," she replied back with good-natured venom.

"Twist?" he asked, feigning offense. "Was there somethin' ye found to be untrue in me tale?"

"About it being a tradition that Portuguese sailors long to have their women waiting ashore for them in a red dress that signifies undying devotion? That is a cock-and-bull story if ever I heard one," she said back with a hint of righteousness.

Barbossa grinned slyly at her. "Well, mayhap the tradition part be a tad stretched," he said, "but 'tis true that this Portuguese sailor wanted to see a lass in a red dress last year and wouldn't be opposed to it this one, so ye might call that _tradition_."

Nonplussed to a degree by what the older pirate had been implying, Elizabeth turned away and went to stand with her hands on the rail, looking out over the dark waves. "Huh. You've probably never even been to Portugal," she sneered lightly.

"Have so," he replied tauntingly. "Several times. A fair number of places I've seen, Missy."

"Really?" she asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"Aye, lass. Spain, Morocco, Wales, France, Singapore..."

"You've been to Singapore before?" she asked, glancing up at him

"Aye, I've been. I've had dealin's in the past with Captain Sao Feng," he answered.

"He's one of the Pirate Lords?" she asked, clearly intrigued by the subject.

Barbossa nodded. "Aye, Pirate Lord of the South China Sea, he is, and a force to be reckoned with in those waters."

Elizabeth appeared thoughtful for a moment before speaking again. "Have you had dealings with the other Pirate Lords, Captain?"

He was amused to think that this line of conversation interested her. He knew quite well that the blacksmith would probably not find her fascination as entertaining.

"Aye, all eight at one time or another. Now _that _be a group of scoundrels, Miss Swann," he said, chuckling softly.

She favored him with a small genuine smile and then looked thoughtful again for a moment. "How, exactly, does one become a Pirate Lord?"

"Either it's passed from the former to a replacement, or the new Lord kills his predecessor and claims his territory," Barbossa explained, watching her reaction carefully.

"I see." She said nothing else for a moment, and then spoke up again. "And how did you acquire your territory, Captain Barbossa?"

"Why? Do you think me not qualified, Miss Swann?" he asked drolly, smiling a little when she rolled her eyes at him.

"I've never met anyone as qualified to be a Pirate Lord," she said back softly and apparently in earnest.

"Why, Miss Swann, with the company ye've kept as of late, I'll take that as a fair compliment –somethin' I'd never think to have from the likes of you," he teased softly, but he let a small measure of sincerity into his words.

She smiled again and shrugged.

"Captain Sangachaly was an idiot, and a disgrace to the word pirate," Barbossa explained, giving her the answer to the question she'd asked. "He tried to stab me in the back, both literally and figuratively, and so I killed him and inherited his territory. A laughable, pitiable thing it'd become too, with that cur at the helm."

"Oh?" she asked, listening attentively and encouraging him to go on.

"Aye. Sangachaly was the butt of jokes of the Brethren, and the others raided within his territory, includin' the Caspian itself, without fear of consequence," Barbossa went on. "It made for imbalance between the powers at sea.

"Morgan knew what he was doin' when he sent a headstrong young pirate to the Caspian," Barbossa continued, looking a little distant, "and now the current Pirate Lord sails wherever he damn well pleases, and there be few who'd think to challenge him on that point."

"I imagine that's true," Elizabeth replied softly, giving him another genuine smile.

"Ah, Miss Swann, is that lovely smile ye'd be favorin' me with as real as it seems, or be it the same one ye skillfully bestowed upon Captain Florisz earlier this evenin'?" Barbossa asked with a sly grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, her smile twisting into an impish smirk.

"Don't you?" he asked accusingly, pleased with the way she played along.

"It was my preference not to sit too close to the Dutchman," she answered.

Barbossa laughed. "Well, I'm flattered that ye find me the lesser of two evils, m'lady."

"I merely wanted to ensure that I didn't have to endure Captain Florisz's hand upon my knee under the table all evening once he'd had too much to drink, like the last time. Can you blame me?" she asked. It was clear from her expression that she found Florisz, a slight and twitchy man with a pasty complexion and curly but receding blonde hair, quite unimpressive.

"No, I reckon not. But it warms me heart that ye trusted me not to behave in such an inappropriate manner," he said, continuing to tease her. "Or perhaps ye'd just mind it less with a pirate than a smuggler?"

"Or perhaps I just trusted your ability to better tolerate strong drink," she replied pointedly.

"So, yer sayin' ye don't trust me to behave appropriately with ye, Miss Swann?" he asked, feigning affront.

"Not in a million years, Captain Barbossa," she replied sweetly.

A roguish smile played across his lips. "Yer a smart girl," he said.

--

Their next duel started off much the same as their others, with Turner monitoring surreptitiously from across the deck, and Barbossa lecturing Elizabeth about finer points of what he wanted her to focus on.

He'd been trying to improve her technique for drawing her sword; a half-second might mean the difference between life and death if she were caught unprepared, and he'd been making her draw repeatedly.

Something still wasn't quite right, and he hadn't figured it out until Will spoke from across the deck.

"She's using too much wrist," was all he said, from where he stood with his arms folded across his chest and leaning against the capstan.

Barbossa made her draw again, standing behind her to watch, and he realized the young blacksmith's assessment was correct. "By The Powers, yer right, Master Turner," he said pleasantly, "and we'll need to be correctin' that sharply."

Any tiny amount of satisfaction that Will might have had at picking out something that Barbossa had missed quickly vanished as he watched the old rogue step up close behind Elizabeth and put his arms around her, placing one hand on her hip to balance her and reaching around to gently grasp her hand to demonstrate how she should keep her wrist tighter as she drew.

"Aye, that be the way, lass," he said softly, close to her ear, and although Elizabeth wouldn't have seen it because the pirate stood behind her, Will saw the way the old bastard smirked just a little at the expression he must have been wearing. "Thankee fer noticin', Master Turner," he said slyly, and then he let go of the girl and drew his own sword again.

Will, recognizing the fact that confronting Barbossa yet again was only going to annoy Elizabeth more, bit his tongue and turned away, walking forward past the foremast where he couldn't witness any more of the lesson or the pirate's improprieties.

Barbossa watched him go, and Elizabeth turned to see what had gotten the captain's attention. She sighed when she realized that Will had stormed off in irritation again.

"Ye did what needed to be done," Barbossa said, mentally making the same jumps she did from Will's angst to her guilt to what she had likely done to Jack, and meeting her eyes when she looked up at him, aghast that he seemed to know her thoughts. "Oh, don't looked so surprised," he said, gesturing at her dismissively with a wave of his hand. "Tia Dalma suspected there was more cause to yer sorrow than ye let on. She happened to mention such to me before we parted company, is all."

Elizabeth looked horrified that anyone might actually know the truth besides her. "I'll have to thank her for meddling in my business when she meets us in Singapore," she snarled softly.

"Yers wouldn't be the only business that old sea witch has meddled in, ye can lay to that," Barbossa replied, looking a bit distant for a moment and then changing the subject back. "'Tis often we pirates get branded as doers of terrible deeds, Miss Swann, when in fact we're just makin' some hard decisions –choosin' the lesser of two evils again, ye might say."

"It still doesn't make the deed any less terrible," she replied softly.

"No. No it doesn't," he said in agreement, "but keep yer focus on what might've happened had ye not done what ye did."

She let herself smile just a little at his attempt at comfort and then glanced again at the empty spot where Will had stood. "I just wish things were better."

"Me too. I'm gettin' a bit fed up with the angst and drama aboard this ship," he said wryly, in an attempt to make her smile again, which she did once she realized he was joking with her. "I've heard it said, Miss Swann, that a roll in the hay often mends a rift between young lovers," he said, as a look of disbelief at what he was saying crossed her face. "Perhaps ye'd speed things along by sharin' young Turner's bed again."

With a supreme effort she managed to close her gaping mouth, and then, despite the fact that he'd flustered her, gather up a fair bit of indignation. "How _dare _you!"

He raised an eyebrow at her response. "Ye don't fancy the thought of sharin' his bed?"

"Oh!" she gasped in horror. "That is quite none of your business, Captain Barbossa, and I'll thank you to keep your suggestions on the matter to yourself!"

"Easy, Missy," he said, holding his hands up in surrender, "I'm just sayin'."

"Like I would do such a thing just for the sake of a ridiculous argument," she huffed, clearly offended.

"Ah," he said softly.

Still angry, she nonetheless appeared confused. "What do you mean, 'ah'?"

"I now see part of the problem," he replied, casually resting his hands together atop the pommel of his sword.

"Which is?" she demanded.

He met her gaze steadily and leaned a little closer as he dropped his voice. "There still be uncharted territory left in those waters."

She said nothing, but he was rewarded with a deep flush of color in her cheeks.

"I'm curious, Miss Swann –once we make it out of the Locker, _if_ we make it out of the Locker, whether it be yer young blacksmith or Jack Sparrow that might plant a flag and claim that territory."

Horrified and furious yet again as her mouth dropped open, she snapped it shut with the ferocity of an alligator. "You're despicable!" she hissed, before whirling and storming off.

He laughed, unfazed by her tantrum. He'd already set his sights on having her, and now he merely adjusted them to having her first. The odds were long, but even longer were the odds of coming back from the dead.

This goal would take a great deal of his hard-won patience, he knew, but that was fine by him; he was in no rush.

Singapore was still a long ways off.

~*~

**A/N:** Barbossa only suspects Elizabeth had a hand in Jack's death until she confirms it by looking horrified that anyone else might know. Now he knows for certain, even if he doesn't know the details.

Oh, and to keep things simple, I've elected to write the story with Tia Dalma meeting them later. It's for my own sanity and I fully admit it. :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five ~*~**

**--**

Two new problems presented themselves the next day, the first of which Barbossa encountered during the next lesson with Elizabeth. After sparring with him vigorously for a short while, the girl had called for a moment and tossed her coat on the capstan when she'd become too hot.

Despite the fact that the lithe young woman was not particularly well-endowed, her sweat-dampened shirt clung to what curves she did have in a rather enticing way that Barbossa found a bit distracting when she returned to the lesson. He was sure, from the way the Pintel and Ragetti, who had been observing nearby, went silent, that they were sharing the exact same thoughts.

Lost in the realization that he'd actually be able to feel her soft warm flesh if he ever placed a hand on her, that line of thinking led him to wonder just what it would be like to actually put his hands on her, in a less than appropriate manner, and then to ponder just what it would be like to taste her skin now that he could.

The next thing he knew, he was thrusting a smarting hand under his armpit, his sword had clattered to the deck, and the girl's blade was at his throat.

"Do you yield, Captain Barbossa?" she asked, a cocky look of triumph in her eyes that said she had no idea why it was she had actually been able to disarm him.

He was prevented from answering by the sniggers that came from the two oddball pirates nearby, until he silenced them with a dark look. Being pirates and formerly cursed men, they knew only too well what thoughts were running through Barbossa's mind, and why he'd been too distracted to pay enough attention to the duel.

Elizabeth, of course, thought the two misfit rogues were amused that she had actually defeated the great pirate swordsman, and when she glanced in their direction, she missed the way Barbossa's eyes roved over her body once more.

The second problem of the morning took everyone's attention off the duel and Elizabeth's figure, when the lookout called down to those on deck. Even though he called out in Dutch, it was apparent by the way he was pointing in the direction of the port bow, that he'd spotted a ship, and by the frantic way he yelled, it was likely not a friendly one.

--

The battle raged on across the deck, Barbossa's small crew joining that of the _Groene Draeck_ to fend off the raiders from the Chinese ship that had easily overtaken the larger, slower fluyt. Despite the damage her guns had done to the other ship, the _Draeck_ had soon been overrun with Chinese pirates.

Barbossa, running the next in a long series of assailants through, had noticed that the young woman across the deck from him was managing to hold her own. More than likely it was because Turner had dashed to her side protectively, despite the look of resentment she'd shot him, but still, she was doing as well as could be expected. Several Chinese raiders had met their maker because of her, and Barbossa had to admit he was impressed.

Another small wave of the enemy suddenly surged aft toward Will and Elizabeth; apparently the Chinese pirate captain, sensing that things were not going his way, had decided the same thing that Florisz had earlier in the voyage: the girl would make him a quick and easy profit. The six pirates had instantly swarmed her, and despite the fact that Turner had quickly dispatched one and she another, two more tied him up for a few seconds too long, and the remaining pair accosted the woman.

Despite the fact that her skill had grown considerably under the tutelage of both Turner and himself, Barbossa could tell she was no match for a pair of combatants, and it was only a moment before she had been disarmed and was being dragged across the deck toward the Chinese vessel. He watched her kicking and screaming, fighting ineffectively against the two stronger men, as they tried to pull her across the gangplank that had been hastily laid in place.

Barbossa knew that neither he nor Turner would be able to get to her in time, and he bellowed across the deck. "Ragetti!"

The tall lanky pirate, seeing where Barbossa had pointed, had managed to slash at the closer of the two Chinese despite being tied up with his own opponent, dropping him to the deck, bleeding profusely from a half-severed arm. The second one, now having a tougher time battling the desperate woman alone, was attempting to shove her backwards across the rail.

Suddenly the rest of the Chinese pirates were swarming back off the ship, and Barbossa realized that they were retreating, their captain seeking to cut their losses and make a small but tidy profit from selling the captured woman. If the pirate struggling with her at that moment managed to get her aboard the other ship, he knew there was no way the _Draeck_, with as slow as she was, would be able to catch the Chinese pirates, and Elizabeth would be lost to them.

Turner was already rushing across the deck, but Barbossa could tell he wouldn't make it in time. Drawing his pistol and gambling on his accuracy, he waited a heartbeat or two until the right moment and pulled the trigger.

Elizabeth's abductor's head snapped forward as the shot found its target, and the dead pirate fell off the gangplank and into the water below. Will made it to Elizabeth, who stood frozen in shock at having her assailant's blood and brains splattered across her face, and yanked her back aboard the _Draeck_, an instant before the gangplank tumbled to follow the dead pirate.

"Elizabeth!" Will cried, grabbing her up though she didn't respond. "Are you alright? Elizabeth?"

The young woman was staring at her hand after pulling it away from her face, recognizing what some of the tiny flecks of matter were.

"Elizabeth!" Will shook her a little to try to get her attention.

Barbossa had made to where the pair was, even as the _Draeck's_ crew fired its last shots at the retreating Chinese ship. He placed a hand on Will's arm. "Give her a minute, lad," he said, annoyance but not animosity in his tone.

Will, furious at the interference and at Barbossa for suggesting how he should deal with Elizabeth, let go of her and swung at the older pirate, connecting his fist violently with Barbossa's jaw and snapping his head around. "You could have killed her!" he cried, going after the pirate again. "What the hell were you thinking, taking a shot like that?"

"Will!" Elizabeth cried, grabbing at his arms.

Will stopped, but it was because he found Barbossa's sword at his chest, after the Pirate Lord had drawn faster than anyone he'd ever seen before, and he met the older man's furious gaze with one of his own.

"Tell me why 'tis that I shouldn't run ye through now and just be done with yer hotheaded stupidity," Barbossa snarled, blood running down his chin even as he bared his teeth.

"Stop, both of you!" Elizabeth gasped, pulling Will back away from the end of the blade. "Stop it!"

Both men seemed to be considering whether or not there was merit in stopping, and then Will took his hand off his sword. "Come on, Elizabeth," he said, earning himself a hard look from her as he turned to go. When he realized she wasn't going to follow, he threw his hands up in exasperation and left.

Barbossa sheathed his sword and looked to the woman before him. "Yer unharmed?" he asked, getting a nod in return. He turned and crouched by a dead pirate nearby and tore a large piece of cloth from the man's shirt. "Here, clean the blood off yer face," he said, handing her the rag, and then turning and walking away yet again.

~*~


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **A slightly short yet oh-so-significant chapter in the tale. Of course, none of us know precisely what's in the Pirate Code, but the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea does. ;)

Once again, it's all for lighthearted fun.

Son-of-a-Gun, I sit through DMC for the very same reason as your son. :D

--

**Chapter Six ~*~**

**--**

She found him, perhaps twenty minutes later, after she'd managed to clean all the blood and other substances off herself, in a dimly lit part of the hold, pacing in agitation back and forth between several crates. They were stacked high enough that she might not have known he was there, were it not for the great plumed hat that swept past the tops of the boxes each time he retraced his steps.

Although she found it somewhat amusing, she knew better than to startle him in the mood he was likely in, and she spoke softly before getting any closer.

"Captain?"

The hat froze in place and after a moment he spoke. "What is it?"

"Might I speak with you?" she asked softly.

"If ye must," he said back, clear agitation in his voice. His gaze was hard when she walked through the space between the crates, as was his voice still. "What is it that yeh want?"

"I just wanted to see if you were alright," she said softly, her voice tinged with the guilt that she felt over what Will had done. While she understood that Will's reaction had been one of pure emotion fired by his animosity toward the Pirate Lord, she still knew that Barbossa hadn't deserved what he'd gotten, at least not in this particular instance.

Barbossa frowned heavily at her. "I've managed to survive worse," he snarled.

"Yes, I know," she replied evenly.

After a long moment of her standing there contemplating the flickering shadows cast by the single lantern, he spoke again, but with slightly less agitation apparent. "Was there somethin' else ye wanted, Miss Swann?"

She gave him an awkward smile and shook her head. "No. No...I, it's just..."

"Just what?" he asked, a bit impatient.

"I just wanted to say 'thank you'."

"Fer what?" he asked, now curious as to what she'd say.

"For what you did on deck," she replied, looking up to meet his gaze. "You saved my life."

He shrugged. "It wasn't killin' you that they were interested in, Miss Swann."

"No, I suppose it wasn't," she replied, "but still, thank you."

He glanced down at the spot on his wrist where she'd rested her fingers briefly as she'd thanked him. "Yer welcome," he said with a small nod.

"Oh, look, you're still bleeding," she said, fishing a slightly cleaner rag than the one he'd given her out of her pocket. "Here."

He took a step back as she reached toward him. "I'll be jus fine, thankee," he said, holding up one hand to ward her off.

"But it's still..."

"Bleedin', yes, I know," he said. "It's been my experience, lass, that all bleedin' eventually stops."

Unprepared for the wry humor in his statement, Elizabeth burst into laughter for moment. "I guess you're right, but you still ought to let me clean that," she said. "Sit down," she ordered, earning herself a dark look. "Oh, stop with the fearsome pirate business and sit down," she repeated, pointing at the crate next to him. Still scowling a little, he complied and she stepped closer. "You don't want that to fester...you know, now that you're..." She hesitated awkwardly.

"Alive?" Barbossa finished for her, watching her nod. "Aye, I suppose that be true," he said, appearing as if he would comply.

"This will probably hurt a little," she said, leaning closer.

"It already does," he said with a slight shrug, causing her to pause with the cloth halfway to his face and look thoughtful.

"Is it strange?" she asked with a searching gaze.

"Is what strange?" he asked, not quite sure what it was she wanted to know.

"That you can feel pain again?" she asked, after deciding she had the courage to complete her question. The last time she'd been face to face with him in such proximity he'd numbered among the living dead, and she vividly recalled that same steely blue gaze meeting hers even as the light of the moon melted the flesh from his very bones.

"I never stopped feelin' pain," he replied, and then snarled softly as she began dabbing hesitantly at his swollen lip. "Ow!" He involuntarily turned away just a little.

She was surprised to find she had to bite her own lip in order to keep from smiling at his currently very human reaction.

"Some Pirate Lord you are," she said, reaching up with her free hand to turn him back to face her. She held him in place while she began cleaning up the rest of the blood and tried to fill the awkward space with conversation. "So, you were always able to feel pain?"

She admitted to herself that it was strange to be discussing such things with the man who had once kidnapped her, but present circumstances had necessitated their alliance to accomplish their mutual objective, albeit for different reasons. Weeks travelling in each other's company had certainly not dispelled all distrust, but had shown so far that it appeared they could cooperate in a more civil manner than she'd originally thought possible.

"Aye, it goes with the territory of bein' cursed," he replied, scowling again when she spit on the cloth and began scrubbing a small spot of dried blood from his beard.

"Are ye nearly done?" he asked, slightly miffed at having his chin scrubbed the way a small child might by his mother.

She laughed lightly again at his irritation and stepped back to survey her work. "There, that's better."

Despite the mild look of annoyance he still wore, he kept his voice soft. "Thankee, lass."

"Oh, it's the least I could do," she said pleasantly, "since I owe you a debt."

Barbossa instantly leapt to his feet, grabbing her by the arms as she spoke, but not in time to keep her from finishing her statement.

"That was a mistake!" he snarled at her as she gasped at the way he grabbed her. "Never openly declare a debt to a Pirate Lord!" he growled at her again.

"Why?" she asked, as he yanked his hands from her arms and took up his agitated pacing once more.

"As per the Code, ye've just bound yerself in obligation to me," he sneered at her.

"_What_?"

"You _officially _owe me. 'Twould have been better if ye'd just left it unspoken, Miss Swann," he continued as he paced.

Horrified at what she'd unknowingly done, and not at all liking the way he'd said 'officially', Elizabeth spoke frantically. "But surely...surely you saving me from those pirates would count toward making up for kidnapping me?"

Barbossa shook his head. "Me agreein' to save Jack Sparrow from the Locker fer yeh was the way ye already agreed to forgive that particular trespass and go on to sail with me."

"You're saving Jack from the locker because of some agreement you have with Tia Dalma! I'm not blind, you know!" she cried, beginning to panic.

"Aye, that be true, but that doesn't mean that I can't use the same reasonin' to settle more than one accord, and you _did _agree to our previous matters bein' settled. They cancel each other out, in pirate terms."

He could tell that her mind was racing, searching back over the past month to see if there was anything else that had happened that might be used to bargain with.

"Our slate was clean, so to speak," he said solemnly, "until just now."

"You mean until you shot that pirate," she corrected him.

"Actually no," he said. "Oh, I would have made sure to use that to me best advantage if the need arose, you can be sure of that, but now ye've bound yerself to a very specific payment, me fine girl."

"Which is?" she asked in a small voice, closing her eyes and wishing she were anywhere else.

"That what I saved fer ye," he said, causing her to open her eyes and stare at him in open horror.

"You can't possibly mean..." she gasped.

"Oh, but I do," he snarled at her, "you acknowledged it yerself but a moment ago. 'Twas yer virtue I saved by killin' that man, Miss Swann, and 'twould be the very same that ye now owe me."

~*~


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven ~*~**

--

"You _can't_ be serious," she said, staring aghast at the pirate pacing back and forth next to her in agitation.

"Have ye known me yet to be prone to frivolity?" he asked, stopping his pacing and eyeing her intently.

"No," she said in a small voice.

"Then ye can bet with a fair amount of certainty that I'm serious," Barbossa replied, resuming his trek back and forth across the small, dimly lit space they shared.

"You're making this up," she accused him after a moment's pause, with a slightly hysterical laugh. It's a joke...that's it. You're-"

"Yes, that sounds so much like me," Barbossa sneered at her sarcastically.

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment and then tried again. "Are you _quite_ sure about this?"

"If ye'd sailed fer ten years with Morgan like I did, then ye'd know I'm dead certain," Barbossa replied. "There be a fair bit that I know about the precise terms of the Code."

"But you said they were more like guidelines," she said, with equal measures of anger and frustration creeping into her voice.

"I lied," he retorted on the next circuit past her.

"I thought you said you never lied!" she snapped at him.

He fastened her with a piercing stare. "I said I _rarely _lie –there's a difference, Miss Swann."

"So, you're saying that because I-"

"Keep yer voice down," he snarled at her in a hushed fashion, and she quickly complied, knowing that sailing ships had many ears.

"So, you're saying that because I openly declared that I owe you a debt for what you did, that now my first night being intimate with a man will not be my wedding night?" she asked unsteadily.

"Unless ye plan on marryin' me, Miss Swann, then yes, that's pretty much the long and the short of it," he replied flippantly, while her mouth dropped open again in horror. Before she could summon up an appropriate reply, Barbossa continued on. "Speakin' of marryin'...'twould be best to keep this just among ourselves fer the time, aye?"

Any sharp retort she'd been preparing was let go as she realized what the pirate captain was saying. "Oh my, yes, I...I suppose it would be best that Will not find out –he'd probably have your head if he did."

"It be parts further south that I'm more concerned about," Barbossa answered dryly.

"That would make two of us," she said, causing him to roll his eyes a little at her. She watched him pace for a few more moments before asking the question that had finally formed in her mind. "If someone is indebted to a Pirate Lord, what happens if they don't pay their debt?"

"That Pirate Lord would be within his rights to kill the reneging bastard," Barbossa answered absently.

"I see," she said quietly, returning to her thoughts again. "What about a trade?"

"A trade?" he asked, halting and turning to look at her.

"Yes, what if the Pirate Lord could be persuaded to take something else in exchange for what was originally established?" she asked.

"Aye, somethin' of equal value might well be agreed upon to satisfy the debt," Barbossa said after a moment, and then he approached her where she stood. "I'm curious, Miss Swann, what it is that ye think yer virtue might be worth."

The way his steel blue gaze studied her expression made her uncomfortable, and she faltered a little as she answered. "I have a dowry...it...it's quite substantial..."

"I don't doubt that it is, now that I know ye'd be the governor's daughter," Barbossa chided her gently, taking a step closer.

"Or...or a pardon –my father could arrange it, I'm sure of it. You wouldn't have to remain an outlaw –you could go back to a normal life," she blurted out.

"There be three things wrong with what ye propose to exchange, Miss Swann, the first bein' that I have more gold than I'd know what to do with already, hidden away in a location known only to meself." He issued a short bark of laughter when he saw the look on her face. "Did ye really think I was senseless enough to keep all me hard earned swag at Isla de Muerta?

"The second thing," he continued on, not waiting for an answer from her, "is that even yer father cannot pardon a Pirate Lord. Were I a common scallywag, yer offer might well tempt me, but alas, I be one of the Nine."

"And what is the third thing?" she asked, not meeting his gaze.

He reached out and tipped up her chin, bringing her eyes up to meet his as he leaned closer and spoke in a dark whisper. "I _want_ what it is you owe me."

--

Barbossa watched her go from the dimly lit space in the hold they'd been speaking in. For the space of a heartbeat or two she'd been afraid – of him as he loomed over her in that shadowy corner, and of the dark desire he'd openly confessed to her.

But then the lioness had replaced the lamb again, and her eyes had hardened, taking on that look of steely defiance she had at times, and she'd swatted his hand away from her face and snarled back. "Never," she'd declared haughtily, and then she'd thrown the same cloth she'd used to tend his injury in his face and stormed past him. He began to pace again, slower this time in thoughtful contemplation.

Complicated she was, as well as spirited and lovely, and Barbossa had admired her from the first moment he'd seen her, holding her head up high and making demands of him despite the fact that she was surrounded by pirates of the worst kind. A lady she'd been, and Barbossa had done his very best to treat her in gentlemanly fashion, having a table fit for a princess set for her, and providing her with that red dress, so that she wouldn't have to remain in naught but her night attire.

True, he admitted the thoughts he'd had about her as she sat across from him, enthralled by the macabre tale he had told, were less than gentlemanly, but who could blame him? She'd had that same look of dread a moment ago as she had when she'd questioned him about the blood to be repaid, and then the same ferocity when she'd swatted his hand away as when she'd plunged that knife into his chest.

Both he found intriguing, then and now, and he wondered when the time came whether it would be the demure lamb trembling underneath him as she finally acquiesced, or the lioness, fighting him tooth and nail until the last. Both versions appealed to him on some level, but one thing he knew was true: he _would_ have her. He'd planned on it anyway, already harrowing the ground and planting the tiniest seed that he'd hoped to cultivate in time, reaping the sweet fruit of what a skillful seduction might bring him, but then she'd spoken those words, making things all the more interesting.

Of course, he'd told her before, the Code didn't apply to those outside the realm of piracy, but she'd bent the rules to her will anyway. And then had come that night in the swamps of Pelegosto when she'd sealed her own fate –the night she had declared herself pirate, as he'd demanded of any who would sail in his company. The rules now applied to her in full, whether she wanted them to or not.

~*~


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight ~*~**

--

The minutes ticked by as Barbossa waited patiently, arms folded across his chest as he scanned the deck once more. He was immensely curious about whether or not she'd show up for their daily lesson after the conversation in the hold last night. He'd already told her that if she missed one time he'd be done with her, and he knew she wanted to learn more, but he also wondered if she'd have the nerve to face him, knowing now what it was he wanted.

Apparently she did have the nerve, for at last she appeared on deck, sword already in hand. He wondered whether it was a subconscious effort on her part to bolster her own courage. Fixing his best scowl in place, he glared at her from under the brim of his hat.

"Yer late," he snarled quietly, watching her hackles rise as he spoke. "You won't be again, or I'm done with ye."

"Fine."

She threw the word down petulantly, and he was damned if she was going to get out of this that easily.

"Oh, yeh think it's fine, eh? You think there's naught else ye need know?" he asked. "Well then, here's the deal, me fine lady: this lesson ye'll keep, and at the end of ten minutes if ye still have yer blade, then _fine_ it is, and ye'll not need meet me on the morrow. Lose yer blade once, and ye'll have yer sweet arse on deck in a more punctual manner this time ev'ry day until we reach Singapore."

She opened her mouth to protest and then apparently thought better of it. "Fine," was all she said again, snarling the word softly through clenched teeth.

"Fine," he said back, staring her down. A minute ticked by while he waited. "Are yeh gonna stand there all mornin', Missy, or might ye be inclined to start the duel?"

"You haven't drawn your sword," she countered, trying to place the blame on him.

"Like that stopped yeh from stickin' me with a blade in the past," he spat, trying to provoke her again.

Apparently it worked, for she raised her sword, but before she could strike at him he drew his own blade and lunged at her ferociously, determined that it would be far less than ten minutes before she lost her weapon.

The clang of steel against steel rang out across the deck once more, but this time the tempo of duel escalated quickly, and within seconds Barbossa had her on the defensive, backpedaling and desperately trying to counter the onslaught he rained down upon her.

It was over quickly, for he moved faster and with more skill than she, and when her blade clattered to the deck and she went for it, he grabbed her, yanking her back by a large handful of hair and slamming her up against the mizzenmast, his blade against her throat.

"Think ye have nothin' else to learn now?" he snarled an inch from her face, tightening the grip he had on her hair and causing her to gasp a little and wince. He should have anticipated what was going to happen when she opened her eyes and the lioness met his gaze, and the next thing he knew she had danced out of reach once he'd let go and dropped to one knee, doubled over in pain after hers had violently contacted his groin.

It was just as well that Elizabeth didn't understand the torrent of furious Portuguese that Barbossa snarled breathlessly, gasping and leaning on his sword. He said nothing else for a long moment, trying to master the pain she'd inflicted upon him, and finally she tentatively stepped closer.

"Are you alright?" she asked, genuine concern elbowing her anger out of the way.

He glanced up at her, wincing, and nodded, still unable to say anything.

"Oh my," she said, coming even closer. "I am so sorry..."

He held up one hand to silence her. "Ye did what ye should," he managed weakly. "Don't apologize. 'Twas well done on yer part." He winced again as he managed to slowly gain his feet. "Ye could have used a little less vigor, though."

"I'm afraid I got a bit caught up in the moment," she replied sheepishly.

"I don't suppose ye'd be inclined to tend to this injury as sweetly as ye did me last?" he asked.

At first indignant, it took her only a second to recognize the spark of wicked mirth in his eyes, and she fought unsuccessfully against the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Hardly."

"Get yer sword then," he said with one last wince, and then he gestured at the fallen weapon with his own. His eyes ran over her backside appreciatively as she turned and bent to retrieve her sword, unbeknownst to her, but even more satisfying than the view she'd unwittingly left him was the squeal of surprise she let loose when he snapped the flat of his blade sharply across her arse.

--

Buoyed by the fact that they'd successfully made it through the encounter with the Chinese pirates the day before, and having seen no further sign of them, Captain Florisz ordered an extra ration of _jenever_, a drink of his homeland, for the crew, and invited Barbossa to dine with him again.

As before, when Barbossa sat himself at the table, it was set for four, and not long after he'd arrived, Elizabeth entered the cabin herself. This time she made quickly for the chair next to him, before Florisz could react, but Barbossa hadn't quite forgiven her for the indignity of how she'd brought him to his knees, incapacitated momentarily with one blow.

"Evenin', Miss Swann," he said cordially, and then turned again to speak to the Dutch captain, surreptitiously laying his hand palm up on the chair next to him as she slid into it.

"Good evening, gentlemen –oh, oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed, leaping out of her chair even quicker than she'd dropped into it, a hand delicately plastered across her backside.

Florisz, alarmed by her reaction, also stood quickly, while Barbossa merely took a casual sip of his wine, hiding his self-satisfied smirk at the fact that he'd manage to grab a tantalizing handful of feminine flesh that only Elizabeth knew about.

Elizabeth, on the spot after she'd sprung to her feet, recovered herself quickly and smiled. "Splinter," she said, a charming smile fixed in place.

"Ah. Take this," Florisz managed in a thick accent, pulling out the chair next to him, apparently delighted that the fetching young woman was going to be seated next him, where Barbossa knew she would end up. The short Dutch smuggler's nervous little eyes roamed unabashedly down her front as he stood next to the chair he'd offered.

She shot Barbossa a dirty look across the table as she seated herself next to Florisz, who appeared more interested in feasting on Elizabeth than dinner, and Barbossa simply gave her the most innocent smile he could muster.

--

Roemer, after seeing to it that the crew had been looked after and supplied with drink for the evening, made one last round of the ship, seeing that things were as they should be before joining the captain and his guests for dinner.

With spirits high and the _jenever_ flowing freely, even the handful of men from the Englishman's crew were in a fine mood, gathered with some of his own men who understood English around a weathered old salt they called Gibbs, listening as he wove tales to entertain them.

"No, they'd most likely be rogue pirates, and ones it's likely Sumbhajee'll not tolerate fer long, "Gibbs was saying as Roemer passed. "Pirate Lords are touchy about their territories."

The storyteller took another swig of _jenever_ and pulled a face. "Cursed be the day when we drank our last drop of rum."

"You seem to know much about Pirate Lords," Roemer said casually, his interest piqued by Gibbs' comment.

"Aye," Gibbs said absently, eyeing the bottom of his cup, "comes from sailin' with 'em long as I have."

"You've sailed with a Pirate Lord?" Roemer asked.

"Aye, two of 'em,"Gibbs replied. "Two of the worst sons of the sea as ever ye'd meet," he went on, inclined to chatter after the amount of _jenever_ he'd had. "Both of 'em worth ten thousand guineas after..."

"Gibbs." Will's soft voice cut through the silence that was left as all trained their attention on the storyteller. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

Puzzled as to what Will wanted, Gibbs frowned until he saw the pointed look the young man gave him. "Aye, Will. Comin' straightaway, lad."

Roemer watched Gibbs hurry across the deck, but what the Englishman had said was enough to make him wonder about their captain. They were pirates, that much he already figured, but he began to suspect that Barbossa was one of the two Gibbs had spoken of.

Florisz would likely be very interested in his theory.

--


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks to Consuela and Connie for chiming in on the story! :)

--

**Chapter Nine** **~*~**

**--**

Barbossa was enjoying dinner a great deal. The food had been fair enough, as was the wine, but mostly he'd been entertained by watching Elizabeth's attempts to maintain her composure as Florisz persisted in his not-so-subtle advances, which became more blatant the drunker he got.

By the time the table had been cleared and another bottle of _jenever_ had been opened, Florisz was all but in the same chair as the girl, and if she backed away from him any more than she already had, it was likely that she'd fall off the far side of her seat. Several times Elizabeth had shot him meaningful looks, indicating that the Dutchman's hands were roving under the table again, but Barbossa had merely feigned ignorance and amused himself with watching her struggle to fend him off without appearing rude.

When at last her eyes went wide and an indignant gasp escaped her lips, Barbossa realized that the captain's hand had likely roamed too high, and if he didn't do something to intervene, the girl was quite obviously about to go well beyond what might be construed as rude.

"Ah, Captain Florisz, the hour be late," Barbossa began, dragging the Dutch captain's attention away from Elizabeth for just a moment. "I thankee fer yer hospitality once again, but this fine wine has made an old sailor long fer his bunk, I fear." He stood up, watching with no small amount of satisfaction the look of panic that crossed the girl's face when she thought he was leaving her on her own.

"Miss Swann, didn't ye promise to take watch fer Master Ragetti this evenin'?" he asked as he stood.

"Oh...I nearly forgot!" she said, the relief on her face approaching comic proportions as she shot out of her chair.

"I'll not have any of me crew shirkin' their responsibilities, no matter how pleasant the evenin'. Ye'll report to the quarterdeck sharply," he added firmly.

"Aye, sir!" she said, all but sprinting for the cabin door.

--

Barbossa nodded at Roemer in acknowledgement as the first mate passed him on the way out of the cabin, and he noticed that despite the actual late hour, Elizabeth stood at the rail, watching the dark water sweep by.

"I assume yer no worse fer wear?" he said, doing a poor job of hiding the trace of mirth that slipped into his voice.

"I'm not speaking to you," she said haughtily, pointedly ignoring him.

"And why might that be?" he asked.

"Why might that be?" she repeated incredulously, whirling to face him. "You mean just because you sat there and watched him ogle me over wine, fondle me during the soup, and grope me during the main course, and did _nothing_ about it? Thank God there wasn't a dessert!"

"'Twould appear that Cap'n Florisz thought differently about that matter," Barbossa said wryly.

"Oh yes, and let us not forget about that little stunt you pulled just before dinner," she continued angrily. "What do you have to say about that?"

Barbossa leaned on one elbow on the rail, smirking as he answered. "I guess ye'd say I considered it a way to whet me appetite," he answered, clarifying what he meant by the way he looked her over.

Elizabeth's jaw dropped open again at the pirate's audacity and then snapped shut. "I've never met anyone so vile," she retorted.

"Not even Cap'n Florisz?" Barbossa asked smoothly, unaffected by her comment.

"Not even Captain Florisz," she declared. "Apparently the customs differ in Holland, that's all, and he just doesn't understand that what he was doing was inappropriate."

"Ye could have told him."

"And how would I do that, Captain? I don't speak Dutch," she replied sarcastically.

"A good swift kick in the crotch'd overcome the language barrier jus' fine," he said dryly.

"I suppose you would know," she said pointedly.

He straightened up and took a step closer to her. "Speakin' of crotches," he said, giving her his own meaningful look, and then smirking just a little at the look of disgust that she gave him. "I believe you and I still need to discuss the terms of yer payment."

The look she wore turned to one of mild incredulity. "You're really expecting me to honor that debt, aren't you?"

"Did ye not sign me articles and swear an oath to abide by the Code, Miss Swann?" he asked, reminding her of the night their small band had all done so in Tia Dalma's shack - the night before they'd begun their long journey.

She hesitated, realizing the unforeseen consequences of what that now meant.

"And did ye not declare yerself pirate and agree to sail under the command of the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea?" he asked.

"For now," she snapped back.

"Aye, well, now or later, ye'd still owe me that debt," he said, matter-of-factly, "and I'd not be opposed to it bein' paid sooner."

"Ugh," she said, pulling a face to hide the fact that she was beginning to fret about how serious he was concerning the matter.

He took another step closer, looming over her. "Tis no jokin' matter, Miss Swann, and if ye want to sail amongst pirates and be taken seriously, ye need be prepared to play on our terms."

She found the rail behind her when she tried to take a step back. "You make it sound like it's all a game," she said with quiet indignation.

"Aye, and one that I'm good at and most often win," he said, meeting her with an unblinking stare. "Elseways ye'd not think me the most qualified man fer bein' a Pirate Lord that ye'd ever met."

His words mocked hers from a few days before, and while they were true, she now wished she hadn't spoken them aloud to him.

"I suppose I may have spoken prematurely," she said haughtily, trying to backtrack on her earlier declaration, "seeing as how I've only ever met one."

"Ah, but there ye'd be wrong, m'dear," Barbossa replied with a wicked gleam in his eye, "in fact, ye've met two."

"And just who would the other be?" she demanded, trying to hide her dislike of her ignorance in pirate matters behind her false bravado. She was becoming uncomfortable with the fact that he had all but trapped her near the rail with his proximity.

"Why, the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean Sea," he said, savoring the look of shock that was spreading across her face. "None other than Jack Sparrow."

--

Before any feelings of regret could claim the girl again, Barbossa spoke softly to her, enjoying the opportunity to both flirt with her and redirect her guilt. Sooner or later she was going to have to stop agonizing over whatever she'd done and just get on with making amends for it.

"So, Miss Elizabeth," he said as he took another step closer, knowing that his words were going to spark a hot retort from her, "if ye find yer disinclined to acquiesce to my request just yet, I'd not be opposed to you acclimatin' yerself to the _inevitability_ gradually."

"Gradually?" she asked distrustfully, defiantly holding her ground as he took up a handful of her hair and studied it for a moment before letting it slip through his long fingers.

By way of answer he let his gaze drop to contemplate her lips for an over-long moment, clearly indicating along with his proximity and his words that he most certainly meant to have a kiss from her.

As he expected, her mouth dropped open a little in fiery indignation.

"I'd rather kiss Captain Florisz," she snarled.

"Would yeh now? I'm sure that could be arranged," he said, a sly grin playing across his lips. He turned away, making a show of looking around the deck. "Didn't I just see Roemer? I'm sure he'd translate yer wish to the good cap'n fer yeh."

Panicking at Barbossa's proposal, and unsure whether or not he just might go through with such a thing, Elizabeth sprang forward and grabbed his arm. "D-don't," she stammered, disconcerted by the thought of Roemer conveying her words to the inebriated and amorous Florisz.

Barbossa gazed down at where she was clinging to his arm and then let his eyes travel up to meet those of the young woman. "Does that mean ye'd rather kiss me after all?" he asked, not bothering to hide his amusement at her reaction.

"It's not much of a choice," she said, causing him to smile a little at the fact that she might have been pouting just a little.

"And did I not say that pirates have to make hard choices, Miss Swann?" he asked softly.

"You did," she replied with a measure of resignation.

"After the ones ye've had to make so far," he said gently, trailing his finger across her cheek once, "this be but a simple matter." He met her gaze steadily for a moment longer, slipped gently out of the hold she didn't realize she still had on his arm, and disappeared into the shadows across the deck.


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks Connie, SeriouslyShocked123, IheartNY, and Consuela!

Chapter Ten ~*~

Elizabeth didn't sleep well that night. Not only were Gibbs and Pintel, in the hammocks on either side of her, snoring loud enough to wake the dead, but Barbossa's words just before he'd walked away were causing her more than mild consternation.

Appalling as the notion was that he expected her to fulfill her obligation in a very personal and intimate way, her circular thoughts kept coming back to the same place: could she ever go through with such a thing?

Not that she had any desire to submit her hard-defended virtue to that lecherous old rogue, but she wondered if push came to shove and she felt it were a matter of life and death, could she do it? A kiss was one thing, but _that_ was entirely another subject altogether.

Divided she was on the matter: the governor's daughter elegantly aghast that anyone would even insinuate such a thing be offered, yet the rebellious outlaw steeled herself to stay her course, armed with gritty determination to do whatever it took to accomplish what they'd set out to do. If that was what it took to retain Barbossa's help, then ultimately it might have to be done.

She'd sacrificed part of herself to kill Jack, could she sacrifice another part to bring him back? Was it more important that she save herself for marriage, or that she be able to live with herself and what she'd done for the rest of her life?

Put that way, the answer seemed so simple; she'd do whatever it took to make amends for what she'd done. Jack hadn't deserved the fate she'd handed him, but what other choice had she had in order to save Will?

None, but then she'd lost him just the same. As much pain as that thought caused her, she supposed once again that Barbossa was right, and the lesser of two evils had been for her to have Will alive, even though she'd lost what they'd had together the moment her lips had touched Jack's.

Again the sly Pirate Lord's words echoed through her mind. _'After the ones ye've had to make so far, this be but a simple matter.'_

Those words said he already knew she'd go through with it, if push came to shove, and Elizabeth turned over in her hammock, discomforted by the notion. But the thing that kept trying to rear its ugly head from the murky depths of her mind was the realization that Barbossa's words were also, in some small way, a vote of confidence. Pirates had to make tough choices, he'd said, and often the choice was the lesser of two evils. His words declared her a capable pirate for making those choices, despite the fact that she knew them to be a way to coax her a step further down that shadowy path, and on some darker level, that confidence pleased her a little.

Again she tossed agitatedly, turning the other way in her hammock.

Barbossa, on the other hand, slept very well. Content after a fine dinner and the inch of ground he was fairly certain he'd gained with the girl, he slumbered away soundly in a hammock not far across the hold, until, that was, an hour before dawn.

The way the hammock swung to one side for a prolonged moment nudged him awake; he'd been at sea long enough that even his subconscious recognized a change of heading when it happened.

Wide awake almost immediately at the implications of a furtive change of course, Barbossa slid his hat back off his face and into place as he sat up, only to find a pistol pointed at his head from either side.

"_Goedemorgen_," a voice that he recognized as belonging to Roemer said from his right, and when he turned to look, he could see that the entirety of his crew was similarly surrounded by Florisz's armed men.

"Well, if that ain't a large boot in the arse," Pintel complained from the cell he'd been roughly shoved in, along with Ragetti, Elizabeth and Will.

"Could've at least waited until we were up," Ragetti chimed in, earning himself a dark look from his uncle as well as Barbossa across the way, where he was locked in a cell with Gibbs, Cotton and Marty.

"The double-crossing bastard," Gibbs spat. "Never trust a smuggler!"

Any further complaints were forestalled by the arrival again of Roemer.

"Captain Florisz would like to speak with you," he said, clearly indicating Barbossa.

"Aye, I've a few things I'd like to say meself," Barbossa snarled softly. "An agreement we had –yer captain's disregardin' an solemn accord."

"Oh, I think he's just modifying it as circumstances warrant," Roemer said, gesturing for the half dozen sailors he brought with him to unlock the cell and fetch the pirate. He indicated to Barbossa that he should head up the stairs, enduring the icy stare the rogue fastened on him as he passed.

Florisz was clearly in a good mood when Roemer escorted Barbossa back to his cabin, and he smiled broadly and indicated that the pirate should sit. Eyeing the six men who fanned out beside him, Barbossa took the chair the Dutchman had pointed to.

"What be the meanin' of this?" Barbossa demanded angrily, addressing Florisz, who promptly dismissed all of his men present, except Roemer.

"Ten thousand guineas," Florisz replied in heavily accented English, causing Barbossa's eyes to flash angrily. It was clear that Florisz now knew just who he was, and exactly what turning him in was worth.

"We've changed course," Barbossa said in reply. "Where are we headed, exactly?"

"Huangpu," Roemer answered for Florisz. "There is a new VOC outpost there and her _Kapitan_, Hans Kaempfer, will be most interested in just what we bring him. I am sure it would firm up the flourishing relations between the VOC and the EITC if he were to hand you over to them."

"Ah," Barbossa said, leaning back in his chair. "And what's in it fer you?"

Roemer spoke with Florisz briefly before answering. "Why, the reward that the EITC has placed upon your head, pirate. Unless," Roemer continued, translating as Florisz went on, "you find yourself able to make a counter offer that would make it worth our while to avoid sailing all the way to Huangpu?"

Barbossa met Florisz's gaze, even though it was Roemer who was doing the speaking. "Ye know well that I haven't that much gold," he snarled. "But I can get it."

"And how long would that take?" Roemer asked casually.

Barbossa shrugged. He knew it would take him months, even if he were to forsake the journey to World's End and retrieve the value of the bounty first. It wasn't likely that Florisz was inclined to wait even that long, never mind waiting until after he returned from the Locker, if he did.

"And even if we were willing to wait for say, fifteen thousand guineas," Roemer continued for Florisz, causing Barbossa to scoff at the amount, "what makes you think we'd ever trust you to return with the money?"

Barbossa stood up, leaning on one hand on the table as he snarled at Florisz. "Because yer dealin' with the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea, that's why."

Barbossa waited a moment while Roemer and Florisz conferred, trying to figure the odds of them accepting such a deal. He knew it wasn't good. Although it would mean a delay in their profitable trip to Singapore, the time it took them to put in at Huangpu and collect the price on his head was surely worth the trouble. True, he might be able to arrange a deal with either Sao Feng or Sumbhajee Angria, but being indebted to either of those two was not a thought that appealed to him and might, in fact, be worse than taking his chances with the Dutch smugglers.

And then a thought occurred to Barbossa that suddenly gave him a few more cards to play. He sat back down and mulled it over for a moment while he waited, wondering if it might work. Faced with being turned in to the VOC and then to the East India Trading Company, or possibly having to be indebted to another of the Nine, Barbossa decided he had nothing to lose.

"I have a proposal fer ye," he said evenly, sitting back casually in his chair and interrupting the conference in Dutch between Roemer and Florisz. Both men broke off from what they'd been discussing and turned his way.

"There might be somethin' ye'd value that I can offer after all," he said, trying not to appear too confident.

"And what would that be?" Roemer asked, after sharing a look with Florisz.

Barbossa directed his answer at the captain, meeting his gaze steadily. "The girl."

Florisz raised an eyebrow.

"Ye find 'er desirable, aye?" Barbossa asked, as if he really needed to after the way Florisz had almost literally been drooling on her during the voyage.

"Ja," Florisz answered carefully, trying to appear disinterested and clearly failing.

"You'd trade the girl?" Roemer asked distrustfully, knowing that Barbossa had been adamant before about her being off-limits.

Barbossa continued to address Florisz while he waited for Roemer to translate. "Not the girl so much, as what she has to offer," he said meaningfully.

Roemer waited for Florisz's reply and then translated for Barbossa. "The captain says that with your crew behind bars, there would be nothing stopping him from taking her anyway."

"Aye," Barbossa replied, "that be true, but what say ye to the opportunity to have her come to yer bed willingly?"

Both of Florisz's eyebrows climbed towards his hat.

Roemer scoffed. "Miss Swann seems less than inclined to..."

"Willing?" Florisz asked, interrupting his first mate.

"Aye," Barbossa answered, a smile slowly spreading across his lips, "willin', compliant, and accomodatin'."

Florisz, looking for all the world like a hungry fox outside a hen house, said something quickly to Roemer that caused the first mate to roll his eyes in exasperation. "You can guarantee her..."

"Acquiescence?" Barbossa finished, knowing that the deal was all but done. "Aye, that I can. You see, Miss Swann owes me, might we say, a large favor? And since I find meself driven to make a hard bargain, I'd be willing to trade said favor in return fer changin' course back to Singapore and avoidin' the EITC altogether."

Roemer, seeing the same greedy look in Florisz's eyes that Barbossa had, sat down defeatedly, mentally kissing his share of the bounty money goodbye.

Knowing he'd already successfully negotiated the deal, Barbossa spelled out the exact terms, then driving the final nail home in the coffin to ensure that Florisz wouldn't renege.

"Oh," Barbossa said casually, "and did I happen to mention that Miss Swann is a virgin?"

He swore Florisz began salivating again as the two men shook hands and sealed their accord.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven ~*~

~o~o~

The rest of Barbossa's small crew waited below, biding their time as best they could in the brig while they awaited their captain's return.

It was Gibbs who spoke first, when they felt the ship heel back to starboard a bit.

"We've changed course again," he said, getting to his feet.

"I wonder what that means?" Will asked from the second cell.

"I dunno, lad," Gibbs replied, looking concerned.

"Do you think they'll really turn us all in?" Will asked.

"Aye, the foul Dutch dogs," Gibbs snarled quietly. "They'll turn us in to the Company as quick as yeh please, but it'll jus' be icin' on the cake of the bounty they'll get fer Barbossa."

"Think the cap'n'll figure a way out?" Pintel asked from across the way.

"Can't rightly say," Gibbs said dejectedly. "We've naught to bargain with, far as I can see."

"Well then, let's just hope Barbossa does see something to bargain with," Will said, trying to appear hopeful.

"He'll do it," Elizabeth said quietly, causing the others to turn and look at her where she was sitting, her arms wrapped around her knees. "I have faith in him."

Will turned away, stung by her words. Not so long ago it was him she'd said that to, and he wondered if she still had the same confidence in him anymore.

Footsteps on the stairs caught everyone's attention, and there was Barbossa, accompanied by Roemer and two more of the Dutch crew. Quickly the doors to the cells were unlocked and the seven pirates freed, all of them filing past their captain with looks of relief except Will.

"So, you managed to convince Florisz to let us out?" he sneered quietly. "No doubt you've deceived him and made him believe that he'll benefit from whatever bargain you've reached."

"Master Turner, yer becomin' quite the cynic fer yer years," Barbossa replied. "Did ye not get precisely and to the letter what it was ye bargained fer with me?" He continued on before Will could retort. "And I'd think bein' less ungrateful about bein' released from that cell would suit ye better at the moment."

"Oh, I'm grateful alright," Will said back, meeting the older pirate's stare, "but don't think for a moment that it means I trust you. Some of us haven't forgotten what is was you did to my father."

"I'll keep that in mind," Barbossa sneered back quietly, staring the young blacksmith down for a moment before the boy walked away.

"You did it!" Elizabeth said from nearby, causing Barbossa to glance at where she was smiling broadly, clearly delighted. "That is amazing!" She fell in beside him as they climbed the stairs together.

"'Twas a simple negotiation, really, and I think ye'll find it less than amazin' once the details become clear," Barbossa replied.

"How on earth did you manage to talk them out of turning us in? What did you bargain with?" Elizabeth asked, clearly curious yet obviously impressed with what the cunning old rogue had accomplished.

"I'd rather not say just at the moment, Miss Swann, but trust me, ye'll likely be the first to find out," he said dryly.

"Either way," she said, oblivious to what he was implying as she placed her hand on his. "Thank you." Her eyes met his, and she gave him another appreciative smile and a look that said she was clearly impressed before she went to celebrate their small victory quietly with the crew.

~o~o~

What Elizabeth was having difficulty figuring out, was why Captain Florisz had spent most of the day flashing her smiles so broad that they were becoming a bit comical. If those hadn't been puzzling enough, the fact that he'd shot her several furtive winks across the deck was beginning to concern her, as was the fact that twice when he'd walked by he'd let his hand brush against her - her back once and lower the second time. Apparently he felt no qualms about furthering his pursuit of her from trying to feel up her thigh under the table to openly groping her derriere, and she was beginning to get irritated.

When she caught a glimpse of him approaching her again later that afternoon, she spun around to face him in order to keep her backside out of reach, and then quickly folded her arms across her chest, not taking any chances that he might feel inclined to take liberties with her front. He merely grinned at her as she frowned disconcertedly, and spoke two words in thickly accented English that made her stomach clench.

"_Until tonight_."

She hadn't heard that they'd been invited to dinner again, and she quickly started trying to think of a way that she could ensure that she'd manage to sit next to Barbossa and stay our of Florisz's reach.

By the time evening arrived and it was close to the time she knew she'd be expected, she finally found Barbossa, who'd made himself scarce for most of the day, standing near the rail, looking out over the water and likely pining for the _Black Pearl_ once more.

"Oh, there you are," she said, coming closer. "Captain Florisz is expecting us."

"No," he said quietly without looking at her, "he's expectin' _you_."

"Me?" she asked with a light little laugh. "Oh, clearly, with the way he's been breathing down my neck all day. I figured that if I go and sit first, you might manage to take the chair next to me and head Florisz off, if that's not too much to ask, Captain Barbossa."

Perceiving that the young woman was being a bit playful with him, Barbossa turned to face her. "It wouldn't be, Miss Swann, if I were accompanying you to dinner this time."

Elizabeth's smile faltered a little. "What do you mean?"

"I mean ye'll be dinin' alone with the cap'n," Barbossa replied evenly.

Her smile faded completely, slowly being replaced by a look of dread. "You can't do that to me!" she said. "I...I don't want to be left alone with him! Surely you don't mean to..."

"'Tis out of me hands, Miss Swann," he replied.

"What do you mean, 'out of my hands'? What is? What are you talking about?" she demanded with anger starting to color her voice.

"You havin' dinner alone with Florisz was part of the bargain we negotiated," Barbossa explained.

"_What?"_

"I was speakin' the King's English, Miss Swann, not Dutch. Did I not make meself clear?" he replied.

"I can't believe you!" she snarled, beginning to pace a little with agitation.

"I told yeh that ye'd find the agreement less than amazin' once the details became clear," he said wryly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "Now I'm probably going to have to fend him off with a belaying pin."

"I think that'd not be consistent with the response he's expectin' from yeh," Barbossa said.

"What do you mean?" she asked again, an alarmed expression starting to creep into place.

"Miss Swann, what do ye know about the Pirate Code?" he asked, seemingly changing the subject.

"What's that got to do with anything?" she demanded, clearly agitated.

"More'n ye'd think," Barbossa replied, and then when he saw the measure of puzzlement creep into her irritated demeanor, he continued. "In the matters of solemn accords and payments, Miss Swann, should one pirate be indebted to second, the payment agreed upon may be transferred by the first to a third, should the second find hisself beholden as such."

"What?" she asked, trying to follow his explanation.

"Yer payment's transferable," he said, clarifying matters, just as Roemer arrived to escort her to Florisz's cabin.

"What?" she demanded incredulously._ "What?"_

"So, yeh see, you won't be needin' that belayin' pin," he said.

"You despicable bastard!" she snarled.

"Miss Swann, ye wound me," he said, feigning offense. "And after the sacrifice I made, too."

"Sacrifice?" she all but screeched.

"Aye, puttin' the safety and freedom of me crew ahead of me own selfish desires," he said, looking her over.

Elizabeth couldn't keep her jaw from dropping open.

"'Twas the only thing Florisz valued, lass," he said, more gently as he saw how upset she was becoming. "I had no choice."

"Apparently you left me none either," she spat.

"That be true," he said, glancing at Roemer, who was waiting for Elizabeth, and took her by the arm gently to lead her to the cabin.

"But at least there be a bright spot in all this, Miss Swann," Barbossa added.

"And what would that be?" she asked, her look and her words dripping with resentful venom.

"Apparently yer virtue's worth at least ten thousand guineas," he said dryly.

Roemer had to tighten his grip on the woman's arm when she tried to lunge at the Pirate Lord.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve ~*~

Once the cabin door had closed and the torrent of names that Elizabeth had been calling him ceased, Barbossa turned back to the rail and contemplated the dark waves with a self satisfied smirk in place, pleased with himself for being crafty enough to wrangle his way out of being sent to the gallows yet again by means of negotiation.

That lasted for all of five minutes.

Why it was that he found himself pacing in agitation a moment later, he wasn't entirely sure. Actually, he was sure, he was just having trouble coming to terms with admitting it, and he tried to convince himself that his disquiet came from the fact that he didn't entirely trust Florisz to keep his part of the bargain.

Which was true, but something unfamiliar nagged at him, clamoring to be acknowledged, and slowly he came to recognize the foreign sensation as possibly being something akin to guilt.

No, that couldn't be it –he had nothing to be guilty for. The lesser of two evils he'd chosen: sacrificing Elizabeth's virtue over the lives of himself and his crew. It was a debt she owed him anyway, for saving her from the Chinese pirates, and now she merely was paying his debt to Florisz. All slates were clean after tonight.

Barbossa turned back to the sea, content in the way all the events had reconciled themselves in his mind, and at ease again with the deal he'd wrought.

Until two minutes later when he glanced at his own hand, remembering the look of admiration she'd given him as her fingers had briefly enclosed his. That unfamiliar feeling of shame at the fate he'd handed her started to rear its head again, and he frowned heavily and then glanced toward the cabin.

No, he told himself firmly. He would leave well enough alone. She'd survive this night unharmed save for her honor, and the EITC would be none the wiser that a Pirate Lord and seven cohorts had slipped through their waters.

But was it fair that she was the one making the sacrifice without being given a choice? Barbossa had factored in the girl's guilt and willingness to still protect Will Turner, and he knew that when push came to shove, she'd give herself to the Dutch captain to ensure Turner's safety.

So be it. She was going to have to continue to make tough decisions, if she wanted to sail among pirates, and especially if she thought she was going to be able to sail with the Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea.

~~o~~

"Why is it that we're stealin' this boat again?" Pintel asked Ragetti.

"Because Barbossa said so," Ragetti replied, looking around furtively and then throwing a few more supplies into the longboat.

Pintel rolled his eyes impatiently at the lanky pirate. "I know _that_!" he whispered sharply. "But _why_ is it Barbossa is orderin' us to take it? We're not anywhere near Singapore yet."

"Might 'ave som'thin' to do wiv the fact that he's feelin' guilty about weavin' Elizabeth into his accord the way he did, and it's awakened a long-dormant and not-oft used sense of chivalry the cap'n has."

Pintel looked thoughtful about his nephew's theory for a moment, and then met the younger pirate's eyes, just as the two both fell to sniggering. "Yeah, roight."

~~o~~

Barbossa, already having sent Gibbs to round up the others, strode purposefully across the deck toward Will, his hand on his sword.

"You –Turner, come with me quickly," he barked at the younger man, not bothering to pause as he went past.

"What's wrong?" Will said, appearing unhappy but following Barbossa nonetheless.

"It's Florisz," Barbossa replied gravely. "He's taken Elizabeth to his cabin and I fear 'tis with thoughts of compromisin' her honor." He elected to leave out any of the details as to just _why_ Florisz had taken Elizabeth to his cabin with those thoughts in mind.

"And why would that matter to you?" Will asked pointedly, already drawing his sword.

Barbossa stopped short and whirled to fasten a dark look on the blacksmith. "Are ye questionin' me honor yet again, boy? 'Tis my responsibility to watch out fer the interests of me crew, and last I checked, Miss Swann be included."

Will, taken aback for a second, granted Barbossa the benefit of the doubt, at least for the moment, and the two pirates headed for Florisz's cabin, blades in hand.

They took up position on either side of the cabin door, while Barbossa tried it furtively. It was locked, as he had suspected, and with a meaningful glance at Will, he jerked his head a little in the direction of the door, indicating that they would have to break it down.

"We'll need to be quick, lad," he said under his breath, " Gettin' in's the easy part, it's gettin' out that'll be a little tricky." He met Will's eyes, seeing that the younger pirate understood. This was why he'd summoned Turner; he could get in well enough on his own, and likely retrieve Elizabeth, but once the alarm was sounded, it was Turner he wanted fighting by his side, motivated as he was by the urge to protect the girl, in order to give them the best chances to get to the boat the others were currently readying.

"On three then," Will said back with quiet and solemn determination in his voice.

~~o~~

Elizabeth was fairly certain that this was the worst night of her life. At the least it made it to the top three in her mind, with the potential to move up the list.

She'd barely been able to eat a bite of food since her stomach had been in an ever- tightening knot from the moment Barbossa had informed her of a new passage of the Pirate Code. She'd had too much wine, especially considering she hadn't eaten anything, and with the lecherous grin that Florisz had fixed on his pasty face throughout dinner, she was contemplating downing the rest of the bottle in order to dull her senses.

This was not what she'd imagined for her first time by any means, but then again, she supposed that being on the run with pirates and trying to find the passage to the fabled Locker of Davy Jones was something she'd never have imagined for herself either.

The sound of Florisz gently yet pointedly clearing his throat roused her out of her thoughts, and when she glanced back up at him, he was laying his napkin back on the table, having hardly touched his own dinner. Apparently his other appetites were trumping the need for food.

With another lascivious grin that he probably thought passed for slyly charming, the Dutch captain glanced meaningfully in the direction of his bunk as he stood, and then offered Elizabeth his hand. She needed no interpreter to translate his message.

With one last deep breath to steel her nerves, Elizabeth rose slowly and placed her hand in that of Florisz, barely able to keep from cringing at how clammy his fingers were as he led her to his bed. She glanced at their intertwined fingers with disgust, wondering if she should have just paid her debt to Barbossa and gotten it over with. At least he didn't have clammy hands – she recalled that after he'd previously grabbed her with chilled fingers reminiscent of a corpse while cursed, the other night when he'd touched her face, his fingers had been warm, much to her surprise. A bit rough perhaps, but warm.

And dry, unlike Florisz's sweaty little digits.

Elizabeth was relieved when he let go of her hand, but that relief was short-lived as she found it was so that he could shrug himself out of his waistcoat. She didn't need to understand Dutch to know the words that accompanied his glance at her clothes meant that he wanted her to discard her coat as well.

Trying her best to tone down the grimace on her face, Elizabeth slowly removed her coat, laying it across a nearby chair and then topping it with the waistcoat she wore underneath. She couldn't look at Florisz, but she knew his beady eyes were roving as he watched her discard the first few garments.

The next thing she knew he'd stepped close to her, sliding one arm around her waist and feeling up her posterior with his free hand most indelicately. Enduring the awkward and greedy probing of his fingers, Elizabeth snarled under her breath at the man.

"Apparently the Dutch have little use for subtlety in their foreplay," she said through clenched teeth.

Florisz perked up immediately. "Ah, _foreplay_, ja!" he said cheerfully, his second hand joining the first to grab her derrière as Elizabeth bit her lip to keep herself from crying out in disgust and mentally rolled her eyes. Of the twenty words of English that the smuggler probably knew, somehow it figured that _foreplay_ was one of them. She decided that she did not need to know what comprised the remainder of his vocabulary, but feared she was about to find out.

~~o~~

A/N: If you're a Sherlock Holmes fan at all, stop by my new story, A Study in Rum, which is a SH/PotC crossover, and give it a try. :)


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks again to IheartNY and Conni!:)

Chapter Thirteen ~*~

Florisz's coarse advances ceased as abruptly as they'd started, and he quickly pulled her down to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. Elizabeth tensed when he slid a hand behind her head and leaned close to whisper something. What it was, she had no idea, since it was in Dutch, but she rather felt that she'd rather not know, especially with the moist, breathy way he'd exhaled the words in her ear.

Cringing from the way her ear now felt slightly damp, Elizabeth had little opportunity to react to the unpleasant sensation, as Florisz clamped his mouth onto her neck like a pale leech, and she had the distinct impression that she now knew just how it was the stew bones the cook at home often gave to her bulldog felt, with the way he slobbered his way across her throat.

She found herself torn between dreading things progressing any further, and wishing that Florisz would tire quickly of slurping her skin and move on. Undead pirates she had endured, and a Kraken attack she'd survived, but _this_ was shaping up to be considerably worse than either.

When the twitchy little smuggler began laying a generous layer of saliva on the opposite side of her neck as well, Elizabeth was fairly certain that she was going to have no qualms about killing a second Pirate Lord. She distracted herself for a moment or two from Florisz's moist ministrations to fantasize about just where she might shoot Barbossa first, and it certainly wasn't going to be his black heart this time.

At last, feeling that he must have plied her with enough 'foreplay, ja!' after two minutes, Florisz pushed her gently but insistently back on the bed, pressing himself down on her and sliding a hand behind her head again. Elizabeth realized what he was after and braced herself, wishing at that moment that she were safely tucked away in the Port Royal jail again with the leering criminals.

She knew it was going to be wet and awful, but when Florisz finally managed to engulf her mouth with a soggy kiss, complete with copious moist smacking sounds, she was fairly certain she was going to vomit.

Again she lamented her fate and cursed Barbossa, but when the smuggler managed to mash his tongue past her lips, she was convinced that she'd rather be kissing the Pirate Lord. Not even he could possibly kiss as badly as the sweaty man who seemed to be making an effort to explore her throat, and she was fairly certain that at least the old rogue wouldn't drool on her.

Whether it was his overly sloppy technique, or the sounds that accompanied his endeavor to drown her with saliva, vaguely reminiscent of a pig at a trough, that pushed Elizabeth over the edge, she didn't know, but at last, knowing that the involuntary way she retched was only due in part to his tongue holding hers hostage, the young woman decided that she had had enough.

No woman should ever have to go though such an ordeal, she thought, and the second Florisz's damp fingers were under her shirt, crawling their way up across her ribs, she took Barbossa's earlier advice, and shared with the Dutch smuggler the universal message for _get the bloody hell off me_.

Florisz immediately let go, curling up reflexively and grabbing his wounded parts with both hands, crying out in agony. Elizabeth seized the opportunity and shoved him roughly off of her, causing him to hit the floor, still curled up in a ball with his hands in his crotch.

At that moment the door burst open, and Will leapt into the cabin with sword drawn, only to slide to a halt at the site of the incapacitated smuggler moaning pitifully on the floor.

"Quickly," Will said to her as she grabbed her coat and shrugged back into it, holding his hand out to her. "We're getting off the ship!"

Elizabeth spared one last venomous glance at Florisz writhing on the floor. "You're a foul, _sticky_, little man," she snarled, and then she gathered the remnants of her dignity about her and stepped over him like so much manure she might encounter on a busy road.

Things were still quiet on deck when Elizabeth slipped out of the cabin with Will, meeting instantly with Barbossa outside the door, and it looked as though they might have a minute or two longer than they thought, since the incapacitated Captain Florisz had not yet managed to sound an alarm of any sort.

"See if the boat is ready," Barbossa said quietly to Will, glancing about to make sure no one was near. Will nodded, understanding that it would be safer to make sure they had a clear path to the commandeered boat, and he trotted ahead.

Elizabeth turned toward Barbossa, fury blazing in her eyes. "_You_ are the most underhanded, manipulative brigand I have ever met, and I loathe you with all of my being," she snarled softly.

"And why might that be, Miss Swann?" he asked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"After what you put me through, you have the...the...the _audacity_ to ask why?" she demanded.

"I'm assumin' that the twenty minutes you were in there was likely not time enough even fer a greedy git like Florisz to have compromised yer honor," Barbossa replied, glancing about them once more to make sure no one was paying attention to them yet.

"My _honor_, Captain Barbossa, would have remained intact, even had my virtue not," she spat back quietly. "But I suppose honor is not something you'd know very much about."

"Ah, there ye'd be wrong, lass," he merely said.

"Don't even try to give me that righteous Pirate Lord drivel," she said. "You are a self-centered, self-serving, arrogant man who's deluded himself that the twisted mockery of decency he upholds is something even remotely akin to honor. You're despicable, depraved, indecent, and...and..."

"Don't be forgettin' vile and manipulative," he added for her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "Thank goodness there are men like Will in the world. Heaven only knows what I'd be enduring, _thanks to you_, if he hadn't come after me."

Barbossa glanced at where Will was approaching, gesturing to them to come along quickly. "Most likely somethin' yeh didn't deserve, lass," he said softly, and then he went quickly to join the others near the boat.

Will made it back to where Elizabeth was still fuming. "Are you alright?" he asked, starting to reach for her, and then stopping mid-gesture lest he make her uncomfortable.

She nodded. "Thank you," she said softly, her tone colored with genuine gratitude and perhaps a little guilt.

"I'm just happy you're safe," he said gently. "I'd hate to imagine what might have happened to you if Barbossa hadn't come to get me."

He mistook the look she gave him at hearing that her rescue had been Barbossa's doing for one that meant the subject was too unpleasant to discuss. "We should hurry," he said, jerking his head toward the boat.

Suddenly feeling that she regretted some of the words she'd just said to the pirate captain, Elizabeth followed quickly to climb down the ladder into the waiting longboat.

By the time Florisz had managed to recover himself from the vicious retaliation by Elizabeth, the eight pirates had made it to the longboat and had begun rowing for all they were worth.

Barbossa scrutinized the deck as they made it away from the ship, hearing that an alarm had likely been raised. While it was true that he'd had Marty and Cotton disable the rudder chain, they'd still have to worry about being in range of the _Draeck's _guns for several minutes.

"Swiftly now, lads," he said to the others as they rowed, from where he sat near the prow. "Pull fer all yer worth –it'll take naught but a grazin' blow to send us all to the depths."

As if to reinforce his words, an explosion brightened the flanks of the ship, and the small boat rocked a little from the impact of the first cannonball to splash down nearby.

Urged on by the cannon fire even more than Barbossa's words, the rowers pulled harder.

Another shot slammed into the water next to them, rocking the boat more violently and spraying them all with water as they ducked involuntarily.

"They've got our range!" Gibbs snarled as he rowed.

Several more impacts churned the water on either side of them, dowsing them with spray, and the next one struck the water inches from the rear of the boat where Elizabeth sat, causing her to grab the gunwales and cry out in alarm.

A look shared among the group said they all knew the next shot would likely hit the target, and Gibbs spoke up quickly. "We'd best abandon ship!"

Barbossa was about to agree, knowing, as Gibbs did, that it would improve their survival chances for the moment, yet also that it would throw their long-term fate quickly into shadow. But at that moment, the cannon fire stopped at the same time the distant shouts on deck rose in urgency. After a few more moments, it became apparent that the _Draeck_ was likely not going to fire on them again and it soon became clear as to why.

There, rising up into the night sky to obscure some of the overhead stars, was a distinct column of smoke.

"She's ablaze!" Barbossa called to the others, pointing to the black murk over the fluyt. "Mayhap a spark from one of the guns caught hold."

"Or maybe someone just happened to carelessly drop a flame in the hold containing their _jenever_," Marty said quietly, sharing a furtive look with Cotton."

"_Rawk!_ Don't fuck with pirates!" the mute's bird exclaimed, barely getting the words out before an enormous explosion lit up the night sky, and it began raining large chunks of the _Groene Draeck_ down, burning as they hit the waves.

"Oops!" Marty said, grinning sheepishly as the others all looked at him wide-eyed. "Maybe those were also the powder stores."

~~o~~


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks again to Conni, Lizzie, & IheartNY !

Chapter Fourteen ~*~

"Well," Barbossa said, watching the fire burning furiously in the distance several minutes later, "that be that."

"I wonder if anyone made it off besides us," Will said, glancing meaningfully at the pirate captain.

Barbossa took his meaning, knowing as Will did that any survivors of the wreck would likely not feel kindly toward them at the moment. "We'd best keep rowing briskly fer a bit."

"But which way?" Will asked.

"It matters not," Barbossa replied, apparently unconcerned.

Will fastened a hard stare at the older pirate. "I think it matters a great deal which way, _Captain_. I assume that it is your intention to find land?"

"That it is, lad," Barbossa said dismissively.

"Then just which way is land, Barbossa?" Will asked pointedly.

Barbossa didn't bother to spare the former blacksmith a glance, but continued to look where he had been overhead. "I don't know yet," he replied casually.

"I assume you'll share it with the rest of us when you do know, if it suits you?" Will asked caustically, earning himself a hard look from Barbossa.

"I think, Will," Gibbs said, quickly intervening since it would do them no good to have animosity escalating in the small space they had in the boat, "that what the cap'n means is that we just need to get away from the ship and any smugglers left, as well as all the smoke.

"'Tis easier to navigate by stars you can actually see," Gibbs added, earning a gracious nod of thanks from Barbossa.

"Oh," Will said, and went back to rowing in silence.

Hours had gone by since Barbossa had finally given them a rough heading, and most of that time had been spent in silence, each pirate keeping to his own thoughts as they took their turn at the oars.

Once it appeared that they were out of danger, Barbossa had had them ship a pair of oars, and set up a four-man rotation for rowing, each shift lasting an hour, including the ones he took for himself.

Elizabeth, more skilled at rowing than she'd ever cared to be, took her turn as well, and on her second shift found herself seated next to the Pirate Lord, manning the opposite oar.

For an hour she said nothing to him, and he likewise, said nothing back but, she swore, hummed to himself softly as he rowed.

When Pintel and Ragetti relieved them of their duty and Elizabeth went back to sitting in the rear of the boat, she was mildly surprised when Barbossa followed her astern, seating himself next to her and leaning back on his elbows on the edge.

"You're in a fine mood," she whispered, her tone seemingly accusatory.

"An' why not?" he asked back under his breath. "I'd think it likely that ye'd be in a fine mood yerself, after havin' avoided a fairly distasteful situation."

"You've no idea just _how_ distasteful," she said pointedly.

Barbossa shrugged a little. "Mayhap I do, lass," he said.

Elizabeth said nothing back for several long minutes, and waged an inner battle with herself over whether she was more irritated at Barbossa for getting her into the situation with Florisz, or more thankful that he'd chosen to get her out. Feeling just a modicum of guilt about the names she had called him, and recalling just how horrible kissing the smuggler had been, she decided that her gratitude edged out her anger, at least for the moment.

"Thank you," she breathed quietly, doing her best to keep their conversation between just the two of them.

"Fer what?" he asked very softly.

"You know for what," she whispered pointedly.

"Ah," he said, realizing that she must know he'd been responsible. "Ye'd be most welcome, lass."

"Why did you do it?" she asked again after a few minutes, waiting until Will's gaze was no longer focused on their hushed exchange.

"'Tis that twisted mockery of decency I uphold," he said back with a wry grin.

"I apologize for what I said," she whispered.

"There be no need, Miss Swann –yer insults will be forgotten if ye'd agree to put the twenty minutes ye spent with Florisz out of yer mind. 'Twould put us back on more even ground, yeh might say."

Elizabeth seemed to think it over for a moment or two, and then finally let go of her anger with a sigh. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to put that encounter with Florisz out of my mind," she said back, but it was clearly with no animosity in her voice.

"'Twas that bad?" Barbossa asked casually.

Elizabeth thought she noted the slightest edge of concern in the old rogue's question, and despite the fact that she found her cheeks warm from speaking about the matter, she smiled a little sheepishly and answered him. "I've never met a worse kisser in my life," she whispered back, eliciting a hearty chuckle from Barbossa.

"I must admit, I'm pleased to hear that," the Pirate Lord said back slyly.

"And just why would that be?" Elizabeth asked, clearly taken aback by what he'd just stated.

"Ah, because Cap'n Florisz has done me the favor of makin' it easy to appear more skilled in that matter," he answered her.

"W-What?" she stammered.

"Miss Swann," he whispered back, "not only are ye a right fetchin' beauty, but yer as clever a lass as ever I've met. You know already of what I speak, I'm certain."

Thrown off balance by the pirate's unexpected praise, Elizabeth frantically did the calculations in her head. If she counted her insults as canceling out having to kiss Florisz, the fact that Barbossa was indeed responsible for her rescue from the situation he'd placed her in in the first place also cancelled each other out –in pirate terms. That left them with him having saved her from the Chinese pirates, and her owing him…

Barbossa laughed again as he saw realization of where things stood dawn upon the young woman sitting next to him, and her mouth dropped open again for a moment.

"You," she whispered haughtily, "are a depraved beast."

"Aye, lass, that be true," he said, a glint of wicked mirth in his blue eyes, and he noted that it appeared that the girl might have been struggling against the tiniest hint of a smile across those tempting lips as she turned away.

Barbossa, taking advantage of the hour off from rowing, managed to catch a catnap before the shifts changed. Dozing with his arms folded and his chin resting on his chest, he let the rhythm of the little boat as it was pulled across the waves by the current rowers lull him into a light sleep, until the sixth sense he'd honed as a distrustful and cautious pirate told him something was amiss. Something told him he was being watched.

Taking advantage of the fact that it was still dark, he opened his eyes and tipped his head up ever so slightly, gazing out from the shadow of the broad brim of his hat to scan their company. He found that Cotton and Marty were similarly dozing up in the front of the longboat, and Pintel, Ragetti, Gibbs and Will were currently rowing as he expected.

What he didn't expect, was the ice-cold stare Turner had fastened on him as he'd been sleeping, and continued to maintain, clearly not aware that Barbossa was actually awake. He pondered what he had done to provoke such animosity while he'd actually been doing nothing but sleeping, and then, suddenly aware of the warm pressure against his arm, realized just exactly what the problem was. A furtive glance to the right out of the corner of his eye confirmed what he suspected.

Worn out from rowing, and even more so from her ordeal with Florisz, the young woman seated next to him had also dozed off and slipped to one side in her exhaustion, coming to rest up against him with her head upon his shoulder.

Even the way Barbossa's shoulder jostled her a little as he closed his eyes again and chuckled under his breath wasn't enough to wake the girl, and he wondered which of them was going to be more horrified that she'd nestled against his arm –Turner, or Elizabeth when she woke.

~~o~~


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks to Conni, Lizzie, Consuela, SilverCaja, and Longbow70! :)

**Chapter Fifteen**

~~o~~

As dawn arrived, Elizabeth found herself with another turn rowing, Barbossa once again sharing the shift by her side. She was thankful that Will remained up front, so that she didn't have to worry about inadvertently meeting his eyes as she pulled at the oar. She had a difficult enough time when things were busy on the ship, never mind when there was nothing else to do but row, and after the comment he'd made as he switched places with her, she wasn't sure she could look at him.

"Have a nice nap?" he'd asked her very quietly, and while she had been poised to give him a quick smile and reply that she had, his eyes had held that accusing, pained look that they did so often as of late, and she had realized what he meant.

To her chagrin, upon wakening she'd found herself with her face plastered firmly against the pirate captain's shoulder, and she was sure by the way her skin felt that the imprint of the pattern from his frockcoat was still pressed upon her cheek. She thanked God that she'd woken seconds before Barbossa did, and managed to bolt off his arm before he realized. He'd never let her live it down if he knew she was snuggled against him, however unintended and unconscious her proximity to him had been.

It was bad enough that Will, and likely the others, had seen, and she bit her tongue and said nothing in reply, taking up the oar opposite the pirate captain once again. She did her best to ignore him, and he, thankfully, did not seem inclined to strike up conversation either; apparently he wasn't at his most gregarious this early in the morning.

Not that he was ever gregarious, she thought to herself, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the pirate rowing next to her. How the man managed to seem to keep to himself so effectively in such a small space as the boat was beyond her, but there was no doubt that he had mastered the art of being unapproachable when he chose.

Not that she had the desire to approach him, especially after what he'd done to her. Elizabeth set her chin stiffly when she thought about the fact that she'd been bartered away to the Dutch smuggler as fast as the old farmers back in England would haggle away their sheep; a ewe to slaughter she might have well as been.

Or more likely a sacrificial lamb, she thought, glancing stonily at Barbossa. Exceedingly crafty, wicked and smart, he was probably the most dangerous man she'd ever met, and that opinion solidified daily despite the fact that he was once again quite mortal.

With mortal needs and wants and the ability to now pursue the same.

Elizabeth found herself scowling at him, resentment gathering about her like a storm cloud as she recalled how foul Florisz had been, and how indelicately he'd manhandled her, even if it had been only for a few moments. And now Barbossa had the audacity to think that somehow she still owed him…

Barbossa halted in mid-stroke and swiveled his head her way, his piercing blue gaze meeting hers for a moment, and then he raised an eyebrow at her, making her realize that she had been openly glaring at him during her irritated musings. Quickly she looked away and went back to rowing, trying to lose herself in the rhythm of her work.

"I'm curious," he said to her after a moment, and instantly she could feel her hackles rise. She'd traveled with him enough by now that she recognized the subtle, if not sly tone of amusement in his voice.

She set her jaw again and made it a point to determinedly look anyplace but at him. "About what?" she asked, trying to affect disinterest.

"As to whether or not ye've come to a decision," he continued.

"A decision?" she asked, looking out at the horizon they were headed for.

"Aye," he said softly, "about how 'tis ye'll likely do me in."

She knew he was watching her, but his question had thrown her off guard, and she fought a losing battle for nearly half a minute to unsuccessfully suppress a smile, and reaffirmed to herself that he was dangerous indeed.

At last, managing to keep the smile down to a tiny smirk, she answered. "I'm not quite sure, actually. I suppose I had been fantasizing over something rather prolonged rather than something hasty."

"Ah, well, we be one of the same mind, Miss Swann, fer the very same thoughts had been occurrin' to me," he said slyly.

Frowning over why he'd say such a thing, she quickly turned to give him a questioning glance, and then realized by the smirk he wore, that he was not at all speaking of the manner in which she might perpetrate his demise, but of the way he might extract his payment from her.

Once again, she found that her jaw had come unhinged of its own accord, but quickly snapped it shut as the pirate chuckled to himself and returned to his rowing.

"You!" she began, getting the attention of everyone in the boat while he ignored her. She bided her time for a few moments until the others were lost again in their naps or their thoughts during the monotony of rowing.

"You," she repeated, sotto voce, "are the most infuriating, contemptible, despicable…"

"Ye've overused 'despicable' methinks," he said, interrupting her and smiling to himself as he rowed. "Surely ye can do better."

Poised to sling yet another epithet at him, Elizabeth was once again disarmed by the pirate's wicked sense of humor, and had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. She went back to rowing for a few moments, and at last offered a single word without risking a glance at him and therefore losing her hard-won composure. "Loathsome," she pronounced proudly.

"Loathsome? Hold ye such a low opinion of me?" he asked, still amused.

She doubted that he really cared one way or another. A bit of self-righteousness infused her answer. "And just what sort of opinion _should_ I hold of the man who condemned me so readily to such an unpleasant fate?"

"I think," he said very softly, "that here the pot be contemplating how black the kettle is."

The pointed look he gave her drove his message home, and Elizabeth found herself speechless at how quickly he'd turned the table upon her.

"If a man's attempts to make amends don't redeem him in your eyes, then ye'd best hope that Jack Sparrow isn't as heartless as yerself," he said in an even whisper.

Elizabeth turned away quickly, stung by Barbossa's words. True, she'd thought to hold the incident with Florisz against the pirate, despite the fact that he'd orchestrated her rescue. Was that fair, when she herself was going to such great lengths to put to rights the even worse fate she'd handed Jack, hoping that somehow he'd not hate her in the end?

"Ye'll be angry with me fer sayin' it, Miss Swann, but only because it be true," he added under his voice. "You an' I are more alike than ye'd think."

He expected the defensive look that sprang into place, and was prepared for the sharp retort that she was about to give him, when Marty's voice caught their attention and cut off anything she might have said.

"Captain! A ship!"

Quickly everyone in the boat looked to where the diminutive pirate was pointing off the starboard bow. There in the distant, was a slowly growing speck that could be nothing else but a ship.

"Cap'n?" Gibbs asked, looking askance at Barbossa, as did the others.

Barbossa thought things over for a long moment and then addressed his small crew. "Well, gents …and me fair lady," he added with a nod at Elizabeth, causing Will to roll his eyes in disgust, "we have a predicament at hand which we need solve." He then turned his attention to Gibbs. "How far say ye it be to land, Master Gibbs?"

"By my figurin', Cap'n, with the progress we've made so far…I reckon two more days…maybe two and a half on this headin'."

Barbossa nodded in agreement. "As do I. So the question be this: do we avoid the ship and row fer another two days, knowin' that we'll make landfall, although where, I can't rightly say. Or, do we row like the devil and try to flag down that ship, hopin' that she'll be more agreeable than our last berth?"

"How do we decide?" Will asked.

"We vote," Pintel answered.

"There are eight of us," Will replied to Pintel's answer. "What do we do if it's a tie?"

Pintel answered him again. "The cap'n gets an extra vote, same as 'e gets an extra share of swag."

"I see," Will said coolly. He knew there was nothing more to be said about those terms, as they'd already agreed that by land or by ship, theirs or another, Barbossa was to be in charge of their party, until at least as far as them making it back from Davy Jones' Locker. Tia Dalma, who was to meet them in Singapore, surprisingly enough, had been even more adamant on that point than Barbossa himself.

"So," Barbossa said, "we vote."

~~0~~


End file.
